Slow jams for Grandma

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(i) Her laughter reminds me of sunshine, 
the kind that you embrace after a cold winter, 
that surprises you after a heavy rain, 
and makes you want to soak in the sunrise, 
and breathe, a lot louder.

(ii) She keeps a diary in her cupboard, 
it has a faded letter with a red rose in it, 
that still feels a lot more alive 
than every autumn there has ever been. 
She opens that diary every year, 
on the same date, 
and tells me a story from when she was sixteen. 
She speaks of those days with a look on her face, 
that tells me I haven’t lived enough, 
that makes me want to live enough. 
She laughs a little, 
and this time, 
I can hear every monsoon she’s ever had, 
in her voice.



(iii) When she sings, 
she captures every beating heart, 
every lost soul, 
in her voice. 
and her songs remind me of days, 
I know I’ll miss while I’m having them.

(iv) She tells me I should dance more often, 
let the rhythm let me be.
she says she used to dance a lot, 
it made her feel free. 
Now, it only reminds her of it. 
Soft music, 
mellow lights, 
half of the moon, 
and her. 
She whispers her dance, 
in her words, 
and sways a little, 
to her own beat.



_slow jams for Grandma 
30/04/18 

National Poetry Writing Month, Day 29.
#napowrimo