The sun set earlier,

the tire swing slowed—

Grammy’s leaves turned

from green to gold,

from grace into grief.

We cherished each visit,

each lingering embrace

in her fragile arms,

until the last leaf fell

and her story closed.

Yet seeds of memory,

planted in our souls,

remain—

scattered, sown—

her words, her love

still rising in us,

like saintly, living poetry.

Please subscribe to keep reading.