A Ghost of Memory

grandma photos 007
I’ll hold the faded
photograph,
etch her colours
bright and true,
as she walks through
half-forgotten memories.

I’ll hear her voice,
whispering through the mists –
the lessons she can teach
if I listen.
I must listen.

Tales of hardship and happiness.
Times of tears and laughter.

A song of resilience
carries upon a piano’s tune.
A vital clarity returns.

Her strength is not lost
as dark days draw near.
Her arms wrap around me,
her scent heavy upon the air.
I know I am safe,
protected.

With her memory renewed,
I do not stand alone.

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