Grandma is one with the mound of earth again
Like a fallen old flower, her left-over self rests quietly on a tiled-terrain
Her fragrance reaches me, in another corner of another continent, where I hear the words - ‘Grandma died’
Grandma is dead- and the day has rained tears on my bed
I’m drenched Drinking her absence- her presence - drinking in her memory once again
Silence falls, I search for Grandma then… in an old-gold bangle- she wore once
Tomorrow, her dust, bone and ashes will be washed by the river-bed
The river-stream of her will enter the great ocean - it’ll all be one, then- the earth, ocean and the river’s-bed
Her soul has long fled out the world-window into a divine light
I’ll be watching the stars every night...whispering a quiet prayer
Hoping, someday, we meet again… Grandma
Dec 11, 2020
Dec 11, 2020 at 7:06 AM UTC
Grandma is one with the mound of earth again
Like a fallen old flower, her left-over self rests quietly on a tiled-terrain
Her fragrance reaches me, in another corner of another continent, where I hear the words - ‘Grandma died’
Grandma is dead- and the day has rained tears on my bed
I’m drenched Drinking her absence- her presence - drinking in her memory once again
Silence falls, I search for Grandma then… in an old-gold bangle- she wore once
Tomorrow, her dust, bone and ashes will be washed by the river-bed
The river-stream of her will enter the great ocean - it’ll all be one, then- the earth, ocean and the river’s-bed
Her soul has long fled out the world-window into a divine light
I’ll be watching the stars every night...whispering a quiet prayer
Hoping, someday, we meet again… Grandma