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 )
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