Grandma Stella’s poem

My great grandmother died today. She was eighty three, and I have some good memories of her, even though we never spent that much time together. She liked to play cards with me. She called our house once in a while, and it was a bit of a joke when she did because she would talk for a really long time and neither me or my mom really wanted to sit there and listen; but it made her happy, so I always talked. I didn’t really mind, even if it was annoying in the moment. I wrote a poem for her, I don’t know if it’s too melodramatic, but it came into my head so I thought I’d post it up here, just so I can have this here to remind myself of her and how I feel right now. I’m sad, but I’m not crying. I’ll miss her because she was one of the people in my life who really cared about me, and I cared about her, too.

In the meantime, it’s finally spring, and the weather is getting warm and I see grass, pushing up through the snow. I’ve heard birds lately. Everything’s moving along like always.

Grandma Stella’s Poem

Where was I when she died?

I was walking to the library that day

Dodging puddles, the snow made bridges

Cloud cities in the sky,

Shadows and light made arches and ridges.

When was the moment, I wonder?

As I tied my shoes,

As I crossed the street

It happened very far away

As I was walking to the library that day.

How strange to be alive in the morning

And never see the next

How strange to suddenly be gone

In the pause between two breaths.

In the spring things are supposed to be born

In the fall things are supposed to die.

When it happened, where was I?

I didn’t know her well enough to cry

But her absence is there, somewhere

And in my heart, just a small sad rip

While my mind struggles to come to grips.

Where was I when she died?

I was walking in the sunlight.

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About thecellarboy

17. I write, play music, and have a cat that likes to bang his head against doors until they open. View all posts by thecellarboy

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