A poem I wrote about my grandmother, she is the brilliance that guides me c:
Thanks gran! All critiques are welcome, I'm always looking to improve, so hit me with your best shot, critcs (;
Her Invisible Sky
I narrow my eyes, brilliant blue in color
filled with the essence of curiosity.
She stares back, crystals glinting
filled with the glimmer of generosity.
I scrunch my brows together,
little wrinkles folding my skin.
She stitches her mouth into a smile,
little crinkles of age round her grin.
My lips spew out every thought,
piping out steam like a teapot.
Her lips sing words of wisdom,
like a lullaby in this chaotic kingdom.
My hands touch the cover of her book,
fingertips pouncing onto the first page.
Her hands pass on an iron pen,
as she offers a hesitant gaze.
This book, held together by bandages.
She says to me, it is a fragile package.
This pen, its ink of permanence.
It cannot be erased, but take a chance.
For if you use a pencil,
Erasing at every mistake,
Or if you use a stencil,
Producing something fake,
There will be nothing true etched
upon your blackened heart.
So all I ask,
is that when I part,
Do not live a lie.
I will be watching,
up there in my
invisible sky.
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