My Grandmother Is Waiting for Me to Come Home
-Gwendolyn Brooks

My Grandmother is waiting for me
to come home.
We live with walnuts and apples
in a one-room kitchenette above The
Some Day Liquor Gardens.

My Grandmother sits in a red rocking chair
waiting for me
to open the door with my key.

She is Black and glossy like coal.

We eat walnuts and apples,
drink root beer in cups that are broken,
above The
Some Day Liquor Gardens.

I love my Grandmother.
She is wonderful to behold
with the glossy of her coal-colored skin.
She is warm wide and long.
She laughs and she Lingers.

From In Montgomery and Other Poems by Gwendolyn Brooks.
Third World Press, Chicago. Copyright ©1967 by Gwendolyn