Grandma's poetry

My grandmother just won a senior citizen's poetry contest. And here's her poem.

I sit alone,the lights are low,
Children tucked into bed long ago;
I think of chores that I must do
Cookies to bake and clothes to sew.

What's the matter? This room isn't mine
I look around for leftover toys and books,
None are there and suddenly I know
It was all a dream of long-long ago!

I think of games I played as a child,
Dolls, hop-scotch and kicking the cat;
And the glorious days it was
When my brothers would let me bat.

This room isn't mine, it's much too small
And that curtain makes it look like a stall;
Then a nurse opens the door and smiles
Flips on the light and says, "How are we all?"

I'm awake now and remember it all,
Using a step ladder, like an old fool,
My foot slipped and down I did fall,
My leg it it's big bundelsome white cast told it all!

While I am a little concerned about her game of kicking the cat, she really is a nice lady. Congratulations Grandma!!