Learning Death Exists

I pause the white rocking chair
and stand when guests pour
out, my purple dress in contrast
against all of the dreary black.
Why do they wear black?
I sneak back in to pay a visit:
her hair still thick and white,
her skin still pale and wrinkled,
and her eyes still closed.
Why do you sleep Granny?
I lay my sleeping doll beside her
and whisper in her ear I stole some
sweets and want to share. I extend

my hand, but she does not take it.
Footsteps sound from outside. I hide
the sweets down my dress and kiss
Granny on the forehead; she is so cold,
cold. Granny? Her lips turn blue
(the opposite of Aurora’s), her hair
changes to gray, and her bed closes
as tainted hands tug me back my bare
feet not touching hallowed ground.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem