She Weaves Me A Casket

Weaving,
etching meanings without words.
Weaving memories,
reaping love;
I mimic her tune.
Weaving magic.
Weaving beauty,
from the inside out.
She beckons me to watch with her,
the jubilant sun,
waking up from its slumber.
Beckoning me,
and I watch with her,
everyday,
a routine.
I always find her there,
standing,
wishing the sun ‘good morning’,
as the morning slowly awakes,
stretching and yawning.
She weaves me into faith,
every night,
reciting prayers,
thanking God for the blessed life
He granted us,
and hope that we keep on
leading a blessed life
for many years to come.
Hope that we reap
many more years
of happiness.
She weaves tears,
and so do I.
I don’t want to leave her,
for a foreign world.
I want to stay.
I want to grow up,
beside her.
I yearn to see her again.
I long for her grandmotherly love.
I cry for her but to no prevail.
Unknowingly,
she weaves me a casket…
leaving me in the open,
alone,
by myself.
Wearing a white shroud,
I bury my tears,
my pain,
my soul,
under the earth,
hoping it will stay there.
She weaves me a casket,
closing me in between four walls,
abandoning me forever.

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