(I wrote this for my grandparents. I saw them again after not seeing them for about 6 years.)
If memory served correctly
He stood tall
like California Redwoods
His voice boomed like thunder
Seeing him now after all these years
A limp in his step
His hands and voice tremor
like unsteady chairs and end tables
If memory served correctly
She was firm in grip
Held us together
Her cooking had soul
and her words held heart
Emotionally she was indestructible
Now she trembles
Eyes water with loud voices
Cracked in more ways than one
Far from their children
Distance is a constant pain
Both of them
Not what memory served
About the Creator
Ria
An aspiring writer- My first time being a open book.
My poetry is emotionally driven and my short stories are widely inspired. I hope you find something in my collection that tickles your fancy. Thank you.
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