Grandmother’s eyes

I’m told that I have my grandmother’s eyes,
soft brown saucers that can look deep into your soul,
Laughing eyes that look at you
bemused by such childish pranks I would get myself in,
Am I like her now?
Soft freckled cheeks,
eyes looking into a crowded street. Seeking a familar face?
She is with me,
in my dreams,
sitting next to my bedside,
stroking my hair,
Jung Un-ee,
Jung Un-ee sleep well,
sleep well.
I want to hold her hands next to mine and breath in deep her familar scent,
Oil of Olay night cream.

Published by Lisa Choi

I am an explorer, seeker of curiosities, both consciously and beneath the subterranean. I look at knowledge as a continuous path to finding out who I am and I share knowledge. The place I continuously strive for is the living stream of consciousness. Between fact and fiction. Dreaming is possible when you are awake. View all posts by Lisa Choi