Wrinkled skin draws your eyes away from the
Twinkle gleaming in her dull eyes and the
Tinkle resonating in her trembling voice
Crinkled outside, beautiful in; which do you prefer?

For in my mind lies not a single doubt
Nor, with her, do I use my sight
Explore the prisoner trapped in time’s cage
Adore her, for she is the reason that I write


So I normally don’t leave little side notes on my poems and short stories, but I felt like I had to for this one. This poem is dedicated to my grandmother, who passed away just a little while ago. I love her, and I hope she rests in peace.



Plip, plop; the sky must be crying
Lip trembling in an attempt to stay bright
Whip up those clouds to be radiant and airy
Slip and you ruin everyone else’s delight

Rain pouring from the blacken firmament above
“Restrain your selfish sorrows,” chants the sky
Pain never goes unnoticed by the mother below her
Terrain mutters to the heavens, “Sometimes it’s okay to cry.”