She sat across from me on a scarlet porch.
Her eyes were graying
Afraid to touch her and feel the tired age of her veins.
She spoke with descending decency,
Her facade reminiscent of days I never engaged in.
She complained of her shortening breaths
Puffing away on a dieing ember.
She watched the world around her
From a burn-stained kitchen table.
The TV blaring holes through the windows,
Walls once white, now yellowy mustard.
I heard her laugh sometimes.
She remembered many things.
Now, laying in hospital bed,
Her mind rotting away,
She had said, 'kill me if I lose my mind;
I never want to lose my mind'.
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Comments about this poem (Goodnight Grandma by Emily Beck )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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