Your Grandma is a flower

Each and every deep wrinkle of her sad face
Tells a bygone story about the beauty.
The petals about to fall in the weary Autumn
And the boisterous wind begins its activity.
You cannot hold the storm Grandma!
Let the petals scatter into any direction likewise
But the root of the tree still strong enough
To grab the scorching earth.
Smile as the early summer days
And it's a gift indeed to the offspring Grandma.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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