When it’s too hot to sit in the courtyard, <br />Rochel sits inside <br />And sips iced tea. <br /> <br />When it’s too sunny <br />She sits in the shade <br />And sings old love songs <br />And nonsense ballads <br />Out loud. <br /> <br />When it rains <br />She gets wet <br />So we bring here in. <br /> <br />When it snows <br />She thinks of her father’s farm <br />In Russia <br />And the stove in the center of the house <br />On which she slept <br />With her bubbe <br />Because she was the baby. <br /> <br />Don’t worry <br />We keep her warm <br />With her sweater <br />And lap robe <br />And sensible shoes <br />And she sleeps <br />On the therapeutic mattress <br />That wiggles all night <br />Which is almost as cosy as a feather bed <br />But not as nice <br />Foam rubber just doesn’t leave the same impression.<br /><br />Lewis Eron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/your-bubbe-rochel-is-cared-for-in-the-home/
