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An Ode to my Grandmother


A whiff of that particular smell

That soft smooth thread

which brushed against the cheek

A familiar hug of that velvet-like skin

and a slight caress of the head.

Scratch my itchy back and then you mine

while we lie by one another,

Just a touch of the presence.

Evenings spent munching on potato fritters,

She gave me a coin or two

to get some snacks and coolers,

We sat together in bliss and gratitude

with such an elated feeling of luck

To enjoy a bond so grand

between a grandma and her protégé.


Like brother or sister or a mother or a teacher

Like nothing in words or a name to point

A unity that’s unitary

not replicable nor storable.

Gone are those times,

just a hint remains

Will I forget that face, that warmth

and that very tiny smile

as time goes by and my hair grows grey.

Will I not feel that immense power of dependence,

that magnetic influence

as my skin wrinkles and memories betray.

Candid photos are what remains

Far beyond the time in sense,

As I look back at the years in film

I reminisce the silver times we spent.

© 2019 Tiyasha Maitra

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