Grandma's Precious Silver

January 4, 2010
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She smiles with eyes weak but expressive
Wrinkles moves around them like breaking layers of land
Like age
I see through them a time of love, deception, anger and joy
I see through them generations of eyes like hers

Millions of strands of silver plaited into braids cascading over her shoulders
Like rain pouring gently over land after a long drought
Making everything beautiful again

Deep lines corner her mouth that has spoken out, yelled at
And even placidly threatened
But remains radiant whenever she smiles

Evident veins run up her hands like narrow rivers
Streaming that precious love to and from that strong beating heart of hers

Memory escapes her like an infant chasing a butterfly
With arms out stretched wide
Beauty just out of reach

With her precious silver shining down
Sheltering my face
Her hand covering mine
I see through her eyes the vision of our last goodbye

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