(Hexsonnetta- iambic hexameter)
Grandmother
Awakened much too soon;
so premature that glow,
her budding mouth was closed.
So warm but without bloom;
so silent as the tomb,
the sound within her froze
Her marker leaves no joy
though flowers shadow where
her mom has left them there.
A faded, rattled toy_
the sun a faithful ploy
as if it somehow cared.
And so my rose is gone
and in my heart; no song.
So somberly beautiful, Jackie. ♥
LikeLike
Thank you, Hannah. It is about an old wound…
LikeLike