I wish I wrote this piece earlier than now.
I wish I wrote this under a more pleasant circumstance.
But, no!
The reverse is the case.
She was an old woman, yet, full of strength.
Her weakness was her heart of kindness.
But, who knows.
Maybe her weakness was also the source of her strength.

I wish I wrote this piece earlier.

The last memory of you I have
Was the one which I saw you eating.
I wished that night never came.
After that night came, I wished it never left.
because it was the last time I'd spend with you on erath.
I plucked palm fronts for you.
You made brooms with them to take back home.
If only I knew that you won't use them.
If only I knew you won't go back to the village.
If only I knew you'd use them to sweep heavens street.
I saw those brooms this morning and tears rolled down my cheeks.
What's annoying is, you stayed here for some months
I never took a picture with you.
Guess, I thought we'd still spend more time together.
But, who am I, who am I to predict the future?
I lost you to a place where I'll never find you again.
Until I become like you.
Tears have rented the atmosphere.
I'm a victim of this rentage.
Tears won't allow me finish this piece.
But, I'm sure you're now at peace.
I LOVE YOU GRANDMA!