Grandma

From a lifetime of curiosity Eyes have reverted to blindness The darkness that has been settling Around your lenses Eyes that have now Fogged with misconceptions There is the sweet intoxicating aroma of your home Of your land The dirt, the sun, the grass, the birds There is freedom at your fingertips Away from that confinement Of cage thought From a lifetime of curiosity Hands that have struggled to hold on Singed with the sun’s kisses Hands that have now Stiffened with the weight of the Disease eating away at the sorrow Deep inside That was breed by the shadows That were supposed to stick by your side And cast the darkness Settling in the crevices of your heart