Gram

I still remember the sound of you

and the feeling of your fake nailed fingers

combing through my knotted hair

as an angry storm shook

feeble white shutters

the day of your funeral

the beach was at low tide

and I took the shattered clam shells

and heaved them calmly into the water

as the sun shine down

inappropriatly joyful

I came up to your casket

and tears streamed down my young face

I wanted to hold your folded hands

and shake you awake

you smelled like nothing

no longer the smell of your vanilla lotion

we visit your gravesite

and stand quietly

doing the happy reminiscing

that seems so fake

to remember so real of a person

I love you

I'm thinking of dying my hair

to match yours

I can still remember you teaching me piano

and your laughter ringing through the house

please come back

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