Sundays Begin In September

The time I spend with my grandma

"Sundays begin in September"
She would always say
As we sat intently
On that old couch

American red and blue
Have always been our colors
She knew she raised him right
Since football was all he knew

A couple of cold cokes
And a bag of pork rinds
Were all they needed
To crack a smile

Cigarette smoke
Would own the room
and linger on
To sooth the elderly

Every week was a new ending
As the sundays grew short
But one thing he surely knew
Sundays Began in September