
I remember that day
my Ouma and me
perched on the bench
in the shade of her stoep
making up adventures
like we always did.
I remember that day
bright brown eyes
crinkling at the edges
her words, like whispers
captured by the keys
as I typed, my new laptop
balanced on my knees.
I remember that day
my Ouma and me
mind filled with light
eyes button-bright
sharing her final story
with me.
My Ouma has gone
but her stories live on
and now I am
the story teller.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Sasint @ Pixabay
Written in response to Sadje‘s What Do You See #110 photo prompt
Thanks for sharing, as ever! 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Welcome, as always!
LikeLiked by 1 person