Being remembered
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Dear Grandmother,
The last time I remember seeing you happy,
was when I was too young.
One hand a shopping cart,
the other hand reaching towards us,
welcoming our arrival.
Ink courses through my veins
Words run from my lips
When you ask why I write
I say I do not write, I create.
I conceive life through paper
And that life like me expresses all the emotions I have,
