My Gramma’s arms were soft and
Her hugs a refuge from the storm.
Her soft brown eyes, her dimpled
Mirrored the gentleness within.
Her love she freely gave to me,
She gave it unconditionally.
She never asked me to conform
To other’s visions, to fit in,
She allowed my spirit to be free.
I wish she hadn’t had to die
So young, I never said good-bye.
She slept, so I crept ’cross
And silently slipped out the
Her peacefulness raised no alarms,
For God would keep her safe from
Remembering still makes me cry,
Oh what I wouldn’t give once
To find myself held tight in
E. Newman ©
rights reserved. Used with permission
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