I don’tA Poem by LightA poem about a (grand)child
When I stood by the casket
and you stared back at me, my face almost as pale as yours Because I had only seen eleven springs Apparently the universe had allowed just eleven springs of you in my life At the funeral, I smiled a little more politely at my relatives, and unknown acquaintances I sat with my back up straight in shock of you, my sweet oma with a yellow hue underneath your doll-like skin I complimented my aunt ate slowly and neatly Just hovering over that box had transferred your age to me Because children have grandparents and I don’t
© 2022 LightAuthor's Note
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