My Grandmother died, and I have not penned my loss
nor I have stooped to pick her rose
and smell the scent of her.
I can not allow the sights to emerge,
when I must close my eyes,
I can not afford to let her go
nor allow myself to go with.
There is a world of grief and screaming
covered in my intellectualizing
but I can neither nod hello or whisper goodbye,
I must stay this path she set.