Grandma

I see the dark places between your hands when they come together
and can't,and i seem to remember my whole life

Is it not the right time to wax the sky and make your gaze seem bigger?

Nudge the clouds and let us give her the stage
For she wrote stories off them,about them
as they seem to blink back

I do not trust the flowers by your bed,if they may know you
I do trust your nails,and i trust the white hair
on your neck

I have taken to opinions

Would you refuse unrequited love or has this sailor pretty much sunk to know..
There is no child in your untidiness,may be not even in the unwavering
belief that good will come to things,unreasonable

like my distance

O Grandma what are those lines on your face, i haven't seen before