for my grandmother

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The news blares bright and gaudy. Full of fear and sound. yet in the warmth of my grandmothers living room golden light filtering  through her paisley curtains  it feels  far away
Your actions have not gone unnoticed Nor your tears and prayers taken for granted Your sacrifices, encouragement, and love shaped me Into the strong independent woman I am soon to become
Grandmother tell me a story not that repetitive one but the other one the one about you and me how you first looked at me how you first held me
My hero doesn’t wear tights Just an old T-shirt She doesn’t fight in battles But she holds me when I’m hurt We laugh at our mistakes
Why do old women wear musky perfume?  They are not mothballs yet
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