I'm glad this morning wasn't your last,
nor the last time
you fell. Last month? I don't exactly
Like to keep in mind when. Not even in the back of it.
Though that little purple streak on your forehead that I see

It stares at me

From the corner of my eyes. But I know you've gone through, and more importantly, pulled through
significantly worse things, grandma.
I see it, that gentle strength,
in the kindness of your eyes, your lovely smile. Heck,
my friends say you're the cutest granny they've ever met.
Everyone can see it. Your radiance, beauty.

I see it, ten years
ago, when you used to run around the house chasing my brat of a brother. With that cane I realize now that we needed more of. I see it, in the stories
told, whether in first or third person.
Two of them when I hear, the tears I can't
hold. Four of them when we hear, we're all spurred

To follow.

First; the little girl that saw
heads off from their shoulders, and also
no reason to scream.
War is a terrible thing.

Second; the young woman, stronger than a team
Of men. Teaching other young lasses in an all-girl school
to fight for their dreams.

Third; the widow, victim not
merely of the torment of heartbreak, of a life severed too soon, upon your rugged self, though
never defining you.
But also of the undeserved consequences - in the form of those coveting the hand of the Queen, the one whose kingdom they had broken into.

Fourth, the mother of two. Best of the best;
I see where mum got it from. I pray He'll help me live up to that,
I know He will. Ten years down the road.
I see it.

I see it. I see, grandma.
Even as soon, that little purple streak fades, and one day -
all the rest of you with it -
We will always see you, just as He above does.
I do pray too, that you won't fall again
any time soon.
I love you, always.