Grandmother's House

Her house is gone and only bricks remain,
a fallen chimney, crumbled to the ground.
A mouse has nested in a plugged up drain,
with sprawling bracken pressing all around.
A slight depression choked with grass and weed
imprints the spot that once was Gram's abode,
inviting dreams, imagination freed,
with hints of some historic episode.
I come at dusk, reflecting on the past,
reviving soothing lullabies she played—
a hum of melodies that will not last;
I strive to catch the notes before they fade.
    I have a hazy view of rocking chair,
    and lavender is floating on the air.

**3rd Place, NFSPS Beymorlin Sonnet Award

A Chocoholic Forever

I've always had a tooth that's sweet,
loved every kind of chocolate treat.
I've had a million candy bars,
like Baby Ruth and Clark and Mars.
I love my morning cocoa drink,
it seems to keep me in the pink.
I find it very hard to share
my Rocky Road or one eclair.
Yet I've been know to hold a grudge
against a friend with pounds of fudge
who selfishly refused me some.
Oh, what a meanie she'd become.

Although it's soothing to the soul,
still all that sweetness takes its toll.
My weight was getting out of bounds,
I soon had reached two hundred pounds.
The doctor said, "You've got to change,
your pressure's going out of range,
cholesterol is much too high;
you keep this up and you will die."
But I can't give up what I love,
those chocolate treats I'm dreaming of.
I'll keep on eating them, I know.
I'll die, but what a way to go.