tootsie pops

"What's your favorite flavor?" 

My dad hands me an array of lollipops: 

Blue, pink, purple and orange, 

And I instinctively go for the orange one. 

My sister grabs it out of my hand— 

it's the only one left— 

And that's her favorite. 

So then I choose the blue one, 

And I pop it in my mouth. 

A splash of flavor, and memories 

Come to me in a flash. 

Driving down to Plymouth 

In my Grammy's heated car, 

My sister and I coming up with 

One of my best story ideas yet. 

Hiding in the corner 

Of her dilapidated and cozy house, 

Playing with Max, her cat, 

Running through the halls. 

Sitting on my Grammy's couch,  

Watching football until the sun goes down,

Grabbing Tootsie Rolls from the bag

Until there aren't any left. 

I sit and write this poem

Sucking on my grape lollipop,

Wondering if she'd be proud of me

And where I've ended up. 

She never got to see me act,

And she never heard me sing,

She didn't read a finished story,

And back then, I hadn't found poetry. 

I want to show her everything—

We haven't caught up in so long,

I want to eat Tootsie Pops and listen to her talk,

But then I remember she's still gone.