Nanna's Final Profile Picture

Spicebush
and daffodils
swell with the same yellow
adorning your brown, unhidden
neckline.

Bradford
pear petals bloom
from your mouth without the
fetid scent of winter yielding
to spring.

You don
a smile with eyes
as shut as mine before
Mom nags me to loosen like your
undyed,

grey hairs,
your raven braid
adorning the ear where
your nacre earrings graced every
Sunday.

The wall,
pale olive green,
peels in the corner of
my screen. What wind wills you past that
window?

This poem is a little draft I discarded as part of a much much much longer poem exploring photos my Nanna left behind before she passed away in 2018. I just finished drafting the longer piece today after stewing away at it for several days this week. It will hopefully form an integral part of the collection I’m working on.