My dearest grandmother

February 17, 2009
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I sit here upon this bed
Alone lost inside myself
thinking of the memories
from the past
Wishing they were still here

I can smell the cookies
Oh how the smell lingers
I can feel the warmth of the covers
As i pull the over myself
Now she comes through the door

MY grandmother with poofy whte hair
Carries a glass of milk in one hand
the plate of cookies in the other
And a book under her arm
through the door way of her bedroom

She sits the glass upon the night stand
The cookies upon my lap
She sits beside me and opens
my favorite story book
she begins to read

I can stll hear her soft voice
As she reads the rhymes
and sings the songs
Making all the different voices
just to make me laugh and smile

Soon everything dissappeares
and once again im alone
shes no longer here
no she isnt dead my freinds
she has alzhymers

Her very being is being sucked away
Her funny personality
withers away
Those story nights now gone
They are all but a memory now

But nothing can steal my memory away
of my dearest grandmother

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