Grandma


Seventy five summers

weighed down on her

as she stepped out

of the home

he was laid to rest.

 

Not a drop could contain

the sea, she left to dry

Reminiscences

now lost to termites

and her progenies other worlds

 

She, the alien

to be forsaken, earnestly.

Her hunched values,

broken limbs, sagging breasts

and vague senses

 

The door, closed

behind her.

 

Silence

the gaze

wind, and

the road.

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