Aug 1, 2021
2 min read
Truth is, I am always imagining her alive
Day 1 of 31 days of poetry
my grandmother,
the only one who understood
what it was to not crave a settled existence
Truth is, I think we had the same heart,
the same base code
the ever-restless roaming
the ever-thirsty drinking salt water
the never-ever satisfied
trying to fit our fluttering hearts…
