That spring morning in April, your granddaughter held the phone to your ear when I called, you on your deathbed, me standing alone at the back slider. I cried as your gravelly voice came over the wire, systems shutting down at age 98. I knew…
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
That spring morning in April, your granddaughter held the phone to your ear when I called, you on your deathbed, me standing alone at the back slider. I cried as your gravelly voice came over the wire, systems shutting down at age 98. I knew…