Talking to things not human
Seems normal coming from you
Shushing the dishwasher when it clicks and groans
The only sound in a house
Supposed to be quiet for sleeping grandchildren
We hear you murmuring
To beleaguered plants you tried to bring back
From their forgotten state of drought-lined plastic
With your collection of fairy books
You made sure the youngest in the family knew those stories, about the unseen
As though you were passing down knowledge
Deeply held in your ancestral tissue
You talk to teapots
Chatter with socks in the drawer
Making us all giggle
As you look lightly on the furnishings of the home as old friends
Your ranting makes us weep
When you yell at your legs and feet
For not cooperating
By reprimanding them
You somehow
Make the hurt
Seem like less of a burden
Yours to bear alone
In long nights
When agony is your faithful companion
And fairies
Lay out walkways of the softest clouds
In your dreams