Pick It Up

* see red edit below

So sad

this frame that used to hold such a beautiful picture of potential

crooked, sideways now

bent with aches and pains

can barely stand up

As the picture is released to fall in tatters to the floor

and can’t be picked back up

mind

can you please pick it up for me to see once more

or twice

before we are a picture no more.

* I must apologize. I found this written in an old journal of mine and thought I’d never posted it. Only because one of you visited this post, and I went to see what I’d written there – did I discover that I had. This one is posted exactly like I’d written it in the journal. I like this one better. Funny how similar the header images ended up being. 

Header image by ShonEjai from Pixabay 

Mom And Grannie

Before my mother,
I was with my grandmother
I was in the cells that made her daughter
They are both with me now
So
I am not alone
I am who I am
because they were
I thought my mother died
but I see her in a gesture that
I make
or a way I sit
The crooked lip I have like hers
and the dishes I won’t do
before I have to
She is still in me
Although I knew only little tiny
bits who Grannie was
she lived so far away but
sent birthday cards
I have her quilt
in colors that I, also
just so happen to love
Colors must transcend
and come with genes that
still remember
Did she make that quilt for me
All those who have come and gone
and didn’t stay
I will never be alone
I hope I go to where Mom and Grannie are
once my days are gone.

Image credit: Sciencing