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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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