I love her. No bodacious words, vivid imagery, or catastrophic metaphor is needed to say I love her. No abundant similes, no warming sonnet, or monologue to express that I miss her. No gifts to give, no jewels to steal, or no moon has been lassoed for her, but she must indeed know that I love her. A map and some cash could lead me to her some 2,000 miles away, but luck be a lady and that lady so far, she cannot be here with me. No pills to disguise the pain that surrounds the joy I once had in her arms. No songs I could sing to replace the melancholy vibes I’ve suffered for so long. No way, no how could I ever pretend that I do not miss her so. No one could replace the light she does beam the moment she steps in a room. A smile so warm all thought of winter is distinguished, a heart so true you need not question her love. A lady so grand you wouldn’t believe the Heavens would let her come down. Supportive of the craziest schemes, so strong willed is she. Open to the unspoken and capable of defeating defeat. She does the unthinkable and brings magic alive to every soul that lost belief in happiness, for once did I. With a phone call she breathed life back into me, and this lady, my grandmother, my spirit she did free.
This little piece is dedicated to my maternal grandmother. She is a strong supporter of my amateur writing, and I am a strong supporter of hers. Merry Christmas Grandma and Happy Holidays to all my readers, subscribers, supporters, friends, and visitors. Thank you ❤
(this amazing image of the lassoed moon is not my own)