With my tears
I write words
That rip souls
You speak of a God
Tell him to come
witness a man crumble
Since you left
Life is a vivid tragedy
no playwright can master
This pen is not worthy
To write of you
Only tears can paint
An image that makes God
Pray for counsel
My words seem useless
your God must be jealous
So, he took you to his palace
A soul that is worthy
Of angelic wings
Wherever you are
Paradise or pastures
You watch over
My troubled mind
I never said goodbye
And if tears are weakness
Well I confess to the crime
I didn’t shed a tear
For you, grandma
In this cold world
You stand as a rose
If hearts could speak
Mine would
Ask your god
Why take a rose
from a garden of weeds
Comments
Paul
Grandma didn't leave, she just lives in another house.
One day you will be sent an invitation to go there.
She knows that you are OK as she watches you each day
You can still talk to her she is but a thought away.
Yours Ian.T
Paul
Very touching and a wonderful write for your grandmother. I was very close to mine and lost her several years ago to cancer. It was a terrible loss and I still feel it every day but I know she isn't far away. Your grandmother is still with you and watching from a distance. Thoughts and prayers go out to you...