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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The last visit and conversion…</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455272" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Here lays my grandmother<br>A week from: Death.<br>The gentle archetypal, type of grandmother<br>Who nursed my cries; made all things better.<br>Here lays, my grandmother…<br>In that; week before their heinous lies…. <br>“Spoken in hellos but not goodbyes”<br>In that week before her untimely: Death.<br>Before; her cloak of life fell silently away bereft.<br>In isolating surrendered breaths…<br>In hopes and prayers…<br>In hopes; never-ending…<br>In words that were formed: <br>Like crusts of bread.<br>Floated in the mouths of the living… <br>Where once it was lovingly said.<br>That our own increments will rise conversely…<br>And speak from; our own deathbeds.<br>Shall we not all of us…<br>Then one day, converse, with the dead.<br>Here lays, my grandmother…<br>And to date—she is dead.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Mark+Heathcote">Mark Heathcote</a></strong></div>

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