I'm counting roses and the sun's rays
and the leaves on trees that love to sway.
The rings on the stump that have worn away
I'm counting the very days.
I think of lilacs and TV screens
and all the movies from the nineties.
A bug's life turns into an adventurer's dream
Puddles become lakes,
leaves become rafts that the storm drain takes.
Hunting for clovers with four leaves,
Videographer of childhood memories,
Trips to the diner and gumball machines
How lucky to have known the Kodak queen.
Maker of cards and lover of art
no matter the inexperience of the artist.
I never found a clover with four leaves,
but I know I'm so lucky
Dancing, swimming, and jumping on beds.
Dressing up like a princess.
Light of our lives is what you said to me.
You're the brightest star in my memories.
Is it easier in the morning
to talk of days of endless play?
Is it easier after mourning?
I guess it's never the same.
Is it easier in the morning
when the dawn breaks?
Is it easier after mourning
to see that nothing forever stays?
No it ain't.
*Tatiana
My grandma passed away in September. On her birthday. She was 93 years old. This poem is just a glimpse of the memories we shared and that though I knew one day she would pass, I still wasn't expecting it to happen so soon and so quickly.
She was so aware up until the very end. So clear-headed and sharp.
