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my daily poem feb 13, 2004; late grandma's valentine
My little bouquet of red roses brighten
up great grandma's humble grave.
Great grandma, a distant figure in a distant past,
learnt only from the little words
from late grandma. Great grandma,
a victim of the Opium War as great
grandpa fell for the drug, sending
grandma down the ladder of a happy marriage;
her remaining days spent worrying over where to
get the means to satiate grandpa's next fix.
The scars of those days still send shivers
down our spines as to the adversities
of narcotics and the evil empire
that allowed this trade to flourish.
Her life shattered and family broken up,
great grandma spent her last days in
an old folks' home, dying among strangers.
These red roses today come with my earnest heart
to appease her soul. Aptly, a swarm of
birds nearby belt out a chorus of praise
