Grandmas

Grandmas cry from no salt in their eye.
They cry softly from waters in the head
Of memories of husbands lost in opium

Of sons and grand-nieces lost to moon.
They laugh toothless laughter in ripples
Over vegan jokes made special for kids,

Not fart jokes in high demand by them.
As they make hot noon snacks for kids
They rub the eye-whites, of blue smoke

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