Hour 23-The Studio above my Grandparents House

I watched the world

Out bold tall windows

A window box below

Bookcases on either side

Filled with Reader’s Digest Condensed Books

And odd books by authors

long forgotten

The window box overlooked the railroad tracks

My favorite place

To read or watch the endless streams of trains


The ceiling bowed with the roof

Making the room look more octagonal

than square

I can smell the must

The dust even now

I can see the pine trees and the neighbors walk

Their heads jumping above the hedge


The deck was too public

Reaching beyond the tiny apartment

Too many people said hello

But I could sit

On the window box


It was sanctuary

Long gone after Grandma’s death

I would dream of the room often

The bed that slid into the wall

The pull down desk that hung by gold chains

Filled with cubbie holes to rifle through


The angled closets throughout

Odd containers of a life lived inside

Memories and keepsakes

The small black and white TV that barely had reception

The couch, scratchy and pinkish

That folded magically into a bed

A small two top table

And a kitchen, overlooking the deck

My first bachelor pad at 12

When I spent the summer alone with them

My first apartment

My first dream of independence

A field trip into adulthood

Under the careful eyes of my grandparents below


2 thoughts on “Hour 23-The Studio above my Grandparents House

  1. Love the poem. I feel like I’ve been there. First it’s a room, then a place to watch people safely while remaining hidden with closet filled with memories, becomes a bachelor pad/apartment leading to independence of growing up

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