On a lamp lit day, when I have come from the depths of outside. You greet me with a warm face, and shiny eyes. Your eyes, like pearls that have had their fair share of life.
Unlike a regular blank face your default is one with a smile. And unlike confidential files your secrets are spilled like water.
We gather around the half broken table and start a puzzle. Half broken hands teaching me the instructions of puzzles.
Where I would say "puzzles don't have instructions". Then you would reply with a nod and a smile
Sometimes I am broken, and it is not clear how I would fix myself. "There are simply no instructions" I would say. Although, I still nod my head and smile.
This poem, is for my Grandma she continuously provides me with secret life lessons like this one. I am truly grateful to have these lessons. Please don't be afraid to critique or complement me, in the end it all helps me.