Grandmotherly Visitations

My Grandmother came to visit me last night.  Although

I never physically saw her , I could hear that she looked much better.  She told me that she was disappointed in  me.  Right before she left, I felt

a loving hug.  I heard, in the breeze of my window, “I Love You”.

 

What do these “visits” mean?  I can’t understand

the green mist: “Do you grow together with the

Tree of Death?”  In my bed, I drown in this deep

emotional state, tossing the fates of my unique

comprehension.

 

©Timothy Grassan

 

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