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lslaathaugPoems
I always think of you. I think of the color green: the tint of old photos, the lively dancing of your eyes, your turtleneck in your official schoolteacher portrait-- of summer-- the grass under my feet as I run around the yard so big to little me and your wrinkled hand keeping me from running too far-- your curtains hanging in your dining room when the sunlight peeked through them-- the cushions of the dining room chair where you sat and talked and ate and made funny faces sometimes with curlers still in your hair-- the stems and leaves of wildflowers that Grandpa picked for you sitting in a coffee tin on the microwave-- the clover planted in empty ice cream pails in the living room and you telling me I was lucky because I'd found one with four leaves-- the grassy **** blanket on the fold-out bed in the living room where you sometimes napped-- the bitter tea you drank for your weak heart-- and the markings on the cannula tube snaking up to the oxygen mask covering your smiles--- your laughing green eyes on your last day.
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Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:07 PM UTC
On February 15th
I always think of you. I think of the color green: the tint of old photos, the lively dancing of your eyes, your turtleneck in your official schoolteacher portrait-- of summer-- the grass under my feet as I run around the yard so big to little me and your wrinkled hand keeping me from running too far-- your curtains hanging in your dining room when the sunlight peeked through them-- the cushions of the dining room chair where you sat and talked and ate and made funny faces sometimes with curlers still in your hair-- the stems and leaves of wildflowers that Grandpa picked for you sitting in a coffee tin on the microwave-- the clover planted in empty ice cream pails in the living room and you telling me I was lucky because I'd found one with four leaves-- the grassy **** blanket on the fold-out bed in the living room where you sometimes napped-- the bitter tea you drank for your weak heart-- and the markings on the cannula tube snaking up to the oxygen mask covering your smiles--- your laughing green eyes on your last day.
#grandma#green
lslaathaug
Written by
lslaathaug
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:07 PM UTC
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