My Nanna was my wrinkled wonder,
she would never fully know how much
I loved her.
I miss smelling her talc scented skin,
I miss sneaking a snip from her gin.
I miss her stories of the black and white days,
when life was hard but fair,
sometimes under the flickering of light,
I see her even know she is not there.
she is smoking Winstons with Grandad,
as he is stroking her soft silk grey hair.
Nanna had a million memories,
you could see them within the grooves
on her face,
Such beauty in the theft of time.
I remember her funeral, looking at her coffin,
it was so small,
just when did she melt away.
when did she succumb to the vacuming day.
Nanna if this poem reaches you,
maybe on the back of an Angel,
There is not a day I dont think of you,
Each memory is feels fresh and new,
your Face has a place in my heart,
never fading, always smiling.
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