My Grandmother is addicted to Rubik's Cube

My grandmother, is not so old;
she is not yet frail.
its only when she speaks,
I get its hard for her
to search for words
in what is a dried up well,
no monsoon can gauge its depth.

Her hands don't yet
shake on their own accord.
She has a sense of the world,
a sense of me, an in depth
understanding
of what should be,
and what should not.

For me, she always has
one corner of the heart,
untrod by others.
She listens, and
then dismisses, often
smiling, and I doubt myself,
what I was saying,
for, she has a sense of the world.

These days, when my grandfather,
is away for a few weeks,
she is addicted to rubik's cube.
She can't get the red ones on a face,
its been five days, the two red squares
are eluding her, making her slide
the cube all day.

And she loves to call people,
the same ones again and again,
seven times a day.
She isn't one of those old
grumpy women, pretentious,
holding everything in offensive.

She has her own jazzy personality;
an astute sense of dignity-
saying people, in the face.
She is cool, liberal,
and loves calm and quietness.

But, she has lost her will to learn.
Often, she says, how she'll
while away her days
and its really sad for me.
But I don't tell it to her
because she isn't really old,
she isn't even frail yet.