Granny\'s House is Gone
Pricks and blades of green poke at me,urging to go through the stitching.
Flowing of wind, the scent of burning wood,
reminds me of what once was there.
Hair has grown, not once touched scissors since June
The smell of sweet nectar reminds me.
Memories of flames go through my mind
as the warm beams of the sun hit harshly.
A once cold season quickly turned to heat,
once calming is now just haunting.
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