A Poem A DayI dream with open
eyes of my Gramamá
at night and evening.
I feel she is hugging
me. It seems she is gone.
She is and I see her
night and day in
the mirror
where she brushed
her hair and put
makeup on. I like
the way she did that.
Her bed still
smells like vinegar.
I like that smell,
so pretty. I’ll always
love her.
In this blog Writers in the Schools (WITS) celebrates kids--in their own words. We feature essays, stories, and poems that were created by K-12 students in our program. All material (c) Writers in the Schools 2007-2012. If you wish to republish this work, please credit both the organization and the author and link back to this site. This material may not be used in commercial ventures of any kind.
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