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