Heirloom
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There is a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. Spinning and twirling around and around to expose two initials. It doesn’t matter if they are mine though I know that they are
Within Grandma's holy sanctum resided an altar
before which I was in awe, would stand tip toe in worship
adoring the lines of her ornate hand held ivory mirror
and silver hair brush; hands not folded in prayer
