This is a special one, a second in my series of Grand Odes, dedicated to my maternal grandmother who also passed away when I was in school. A strong willed and jovial woman with a knack to make things happen.
Camphor made you a miniature
Oh it was of a bad nature
But it could not do the damage
As you were so savage
Doctors were wrong
As you came out strong
They said you should be dumped in a bin
Little did they know your father was your fin
Through those obstacles
Through those struggles
In a whim
He made you swim
Iraq gave you wings
So you flew with a lot of zing
A father’s pet
So all he could do was fret
A hottie, a bomb, a doer
I can’t describe you any better
Potato, meat and fish fries
You could make your son-in-laws rise
You could sing
You could dance
With your grandson
Up your arms
You looked so dapper
In that short hair
You had swagger
I can swear
Fragrances, drapes
And spaghetti dresses
You gave me a lesson
On fashion senses
You redefined the definition
Of your generation
So now when I see some people always whine
I reminisce you like exquisite old wine
