the way she always hid her long
hair in two braids under an orange
and black headscarf
always smiled and laughed
she told jokes using her hands
to describe things she did not know
how to say in english
her house, always open
so open that the birds that lived
in the tree next to our house,
took the liberty of zooming into palace
and past our unknowing faces
a mystical paradise filled with love
and grandma’s hugs
in the winter, we sat by the fireplace
and watched scary movies with no cause
as it was december and october’s
fright long gone
in the spring you managed to
fill the backyard and our entire house
with flowers
with barely enough time on your hands
but let us not forget the summer
and the way us cousins used to play;
the summer sun too hot and
too much to handle
and so you sprayed us from head to toe
with your green garden hose
and when it was all over and fall hit,
you always left the living windows open
so we could watch the sun stain
the furniture with orange
like kool- aid on the lips

unaware that time
was not a picture
and that maybe we would
never revisit your house
Forgive that i did not
stay in our
Mystical paradise
but i still love you
and no matter how many
years pile on,
i will always look back
and eventually come back
to your house