A journaling of life with Grandma, as she jouneys to the land she knows not...called Alzheimers

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

quiet

Such a quiet face
A smile hidden just beneath the surface

Bright eyes that laugh
but just a little

Words that float into the air
but fall to the ground

Laughter ebbs and flows when it wills
Tired eyes play the game of hide and seek
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