Grandma…

 


Grandma…


I wish you were here, Grandma…

not in memory, not in silence,

but here,

with your hands,

your voice,

your eyes that saw,

more than the world revealed.


You loved without asking,

you cared without pause,

a presence steady

as breath,

as the turning earth.

Now that you’re gone,

every space feels louder.


If you were the rain,

I would walk without cover,

welcoming every drop.


If you were sunlight,

I would stand still,

let it burn gently

into my skin—

your warmth, your peace.


If you were wind,

I’d never move again,

just to feel,

your quiet joy

brush past,

once more.

I wish…

But wishes only echo

where your voice once lived.

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