Grandmother
I look at an old photo
Of a woman staring back at me
Faded, cracked and tinted brown
A distant image of family
I cannot take my eyes from her
So captured by her gaze
Her beauty softly draws me in
To this picture of perfect grace
I wonder if she's small like me
Was she proud and dignified?
Or demure and humble like myself
I wonder when she died
No memories of my grandmother
Nothing spoke of, nothing shown
All that remains is this old photograph
This part of me, unknown
..ah, a dear photograph of the soul of your soul... though missing and unclear i know in time you'll get there... thanks for the poem... it touches so deeply.
ReplyDeleteGood day.
~Kelvin