Earleen Poem by Anastasia Wofford

Buried within the twisted vines,
Lay the remains of her mind.
There are times she can still remember,
The way she felt when she was younger.
How the summer sun felt upon her face,
Even the sweet words to Amazing Grace.
Sometimes the face, that I see,
Sadly, isn’t the face it used to be.
Her memories, fade only a few remain,
It’s a good day if she remembers my name.
She remembers the day her husband passed,
I wish that sad day would remain masked.
For when she remembers that milestone,
I can feel that her heart is all alone.
As I give her a kiss, and say my goodbyes,
I can see the longing in her eyes.
Then my Grandmother, drifts away,
To the sights and sounds of yesterday.