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Every beautiful thing about her – 
her stories, 
her songs, 
her presence, 
is alive again tonight.
I can feel her hands – 
warm on my face. 
The faint scent 
of Avon’s cocoa butter 
her fingers run through my hair.
I can hear her voice – 
rich and smooth
after 20 years of silence, 
telling me she’s been 
watching, cheering, laughing, crying
right along beside me. 
I can see her face – 
smiling down at me, 
my head in her lap,
curled up beside her,
my grandmother’s granddaughter
once more.
Poems, Prayers and the Occasional Rant...
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
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