Grandma’s Locket

Every woman desires
the kind of summer
that blushes in heat
where mothers glance
away from shock
clutching their pearls
with a string of woes.

But hell be damned
you went to bed
that summer night
with warnings and jewelry
away on the shelf
clutching him tightly
where men would moan.

Every woman deserves
the kind of memory
that lingers with time
allowing elderly smiles
to remember the past
away from today
clutching their loves,
not a string of lies.