she holds her hair
on extreme fragility that a grandma
does to a grand
daughter.
two years ago she lost
her husband.
it was sudden and at first
she could not believe that such
parting as abrupt
as that could
happen.
she was fragile too
like a porcelain Austrian doll
about to break into
pieces
thrown on a stone
pavement
she didn't
she chose life, to move on
now holding on to the
glowing hope
of her grand
daughter's peach cheeks
on top of
the drying leaves of autumn
i can hear
the cracks of the heap
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem