When I would visit Ohio, my grandma always said
certain things in Spanish, as to not flood my head.
I wish I understood that secret life she led
by interpreting her knowledge, I know to have been well read,
But now my striving hunger will never be quite fed,
for now those precious, foreign words are unforgivingly dead.
Oh, how I cry very often, at night while I’m in bed.
Regrets like these don’t go away, so I try to cope instead.
I’ll never forget her loving Spanish ***** (that memory’s never fled),
even though my nostalgic heart regretfully succumbs to dread.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 6:52 PM UTC
When I would visit Ohio, my grandma always said
certain things in Spanish, as to not flood my head.
I wish I understood that secret life she led
by interpreting her knowledge, I know to have been well read,
But now my striving hunger will never be quite fed,
for now those precious, foreign words are unforgivingly dead.
Oh, how I cry very often, at night while I’m in bed.
Regrets like these don’t go away, so I try to cope instead.
I’ll never forget her loving Spanish ***** (that memory’s never fled),
even though my nostalgic heart regretfully succumbs to dread.
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