Kingdom

for my grandparents

Four Children, four chairs,
Sagging quilt above our heads.
Diamonds of heirloom color
Cast stained-glass shadows on the floor.

The clock sang a song of noon,
And salmon sizzled on the stovetop.
Minutes later, full of fish and sweet tea,
We dove through the battered, batted curtains,
Curled up on a floor of pillows,
And slumbered the afternoon away.

Later, the draped kingdom would
Balloon and grow,
Stretched by little hands until
It conquered half the house.

The towers of floor lamps
And fortress of bed sheets
Made navigating the hallways impossible
But Gran and Gramps didn’t mind.

They rocked and smiled with eyes shut,
Even though they’d miss the nightly report,
Since the quilted castle had previously
Attacked the television and won.

We never realized our tents
Were in our grandparents’ way,
Now I know the patience they had
When we’d whimsically convert the house
Into a barbaric kingdom.