Ode to Rememberence

My grandma used to tell me
Stories of her past
Tales that lived as oldies
Like magic that was cast
Where actors once stood
Lay a barren ground
And where houses aligned
Became dirty stacks of mound
Browned or yellowed
They always lived in gee
Unlike the present era
War cloaked in harmony
Ere kites fly high
Among the birds
Now clouds drift pass
Laughter no longer heard
My grandma used to tell me
Stories of her past
Which bores the younger generation
And no longer seem to last

– a.h.

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