Grandmother
Her lips were the color of the sky
On a dark and murky day
Her eyes no longer filled with light
While on the bed she lay
I ask her to rise
To wake and smell the flowers
To silence our saddened cries
But she's lived her final hours
Her mouth was open in a slight
As if she had one last thing to say
Her skin was snowy white
The color of a place far, far away
This poem is about:
My family