Poem: Remember Me

Sometimes it feels like life isn’t fair. 

Dialing the phone on a wish and a prayer. 

Who will she be? The voice on the line. 

Young

Wild

Broken

Old

Will she know me? 

My name?

My face?

Can she feel it?

The line that we trace. 

Sometimes it feels like life is unfair. 

But 98 years is a gift, 

Ever rare.

We, the branches.

Privileged,

To bear. 

C