Grandma

You lived in a sprawling house

With a beautiful little balcony.

You sat there on the armchair

And looked for me

In the school next door.

Every child looked like me, you said,

And I came rushing back to you,

To your table, to your love,

In the afternoon after my school hours.

Those lost days were magical.

The lake flourished a few blocks away.

I learned my rhymes,

I forgot my name.

Your hair turned gray,

Your speech left you.

I was fourteen the night I got the news.

The book I had in my hands stayed unread.

The computer witnessed

Everything in silence.

They drove us to the place

You would never leave —

Far away from the sprawling house

With the little balcony.

I watched silently as you disappeared.

The cries of the banyan trees nearby went unnoticed.

You would stay forever a hundred miles away

From the village you were born in.