Grandmother Poem by Tony Adah

She wore a tired mien
Her sunken cheeks and eyes
Looking like our Christmas masquerade
And fierce like a wounded lion
She thundered directives
We never waited to finish
But ran to the village stream
With the earthen wares
That brought her resplendent water.

Her sequence was full of opposites
But she was kind and a good cook
The reason why we swarm about her.
She often got into brawls
With the serene grandpa
And he taunted her that she was a breech birth
Little wonder she acted
Against every known norm!