Streaks of tears flow from ol’ nan’s rheumy eyes;
Is it her tear ducts or is she terribly sad? I don’t know which!
Her face is an age-old mask of wrinkles and parchment;
Turned into paper mache-
Changing from haunted, stern, angry and sincere, each time I visit;
I can no longer read which is which,
She can’t seem to recognise me, I don’t know why!
It fills my soul with helplessness enough to suffocate,
Love isn’t enough to cure you Nan, and the realisation is tearing me apart!
A hard-working woman all your life filled with duty and warmth left virtually an empty shell, where is the justice in that?
Remember, you called me ‘Little Pet’, no one else does now or ever will again;
I fear one day I will visit you and you’ll be gone, and I’m not ready for that!
Please, Nan, show me that you can hear me and come back:
To see my growing family, to give you all the comforts you deserve, and a chance to say ‘I love you’ one last time!
I need that!