Saturday, June 05, 2010

I Was Her Favorite

(written 06/09)

I Was Her Favorite


She died.
I was her favorite.
She told us all we were her favorites.
But she told me I was her real favorite.
She told me that when we were alone.
She told me that when we were all together.
I was her favorite.
I didn't shed a tear when she died.
Why?

She died.
My grandmother died.
She was strong until the end.
She was the strongest of us all.
We all listened when she spoke.
She spoke and we all listened.
I was her favorite.
I didn't shed a tear when she died.
Why?

She died.
My Matriarch died.
The family was her life.
Her life was the family.
Her home was our home.
Our home was her home.
I was her favorite.
I didn't shed a tear when she died.
Why?

She died.
My Grandma died.
She didn't know me as she died.
My love for her has not died.
I have not shed a tear for her since she died
until I wrote this poem . . .
. . .
and then I cried.


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