Granddaughters

Naked Barbie dolls are strewn about, their clothes

piled here and there, and nearly naked themselves,

content and oblivious, they play together on the floor,

calling to me to “play Barbie,” too.

After lunch, the pool, shallow with a few inches

of water, is quickly reduced to almost empty,

fresh cut grass skimming the top and clinging

to arms and legs and little bodies splashing, giggling.

Bedtime’s promise of the zoo quiets them, finally,

but we rise early, load the car with toys -

necessities - and spend our day, napless,

too excited, pushed and pulled through animal’d

trails and round and round on the carousel,

holding tight or held secure; they fall asleep

within minutes of leaving, tightly strapped in

and quiet, Rainbow Puppies clutched close and worn.

It was so much easier then, before life

enveloped them and took them in,

took them away, leaving me alone, round

and round on the carousel, holding tight now

to the memories and dreams of granddaughters

growing up, moving from toys and trips

and carousels, Cinderella Castle Balls,

to the young women they have become.