Sitting Cross-legged

Old age makes a
Sloth out of you.

Whenever my grandmother sits
Cross-legged
It takes her legs
(which she thinks
Do not at all belong to her now)
at least
Half an hour to
Come back to their usual position.

Not a good sight to experience.

It however made me
Think about poetry in general.
The style in which I write about you
And the way the poem comes out.

For example
If I make this poem sit cross-legged
By making it think about our intermittent tiffs
It would take the poor soul
Enough time for it to come back to
What those tiffs were originally intended for:
To display to the world the side effects of love.