Old Crannie (poem by Me)

my tears can't wait to gush like the fountains. 😢

um. this poem is for grandMOTHER. but old people is just same. 😌😔 feel the poem okay? i need u to feel it.


um.

the wrinkles,
the slow-voice loud laugh,
everything is funny,
everything is sad.

the blue ringed-pupils,
the nag,
the gold-lover,
the beauty lover,
al mulk reciter every maghrib,
always a misser..

she loves nature,
she hates gadgets,
always dreamy,
never gets to wake up.

obsess about sightseeing,
but she's still thinking of something,
she try to hide it,
didn't notice that she hides where people can found it.

happy, happy she's happy,
no she's not happy in this happy situation.
can't tell how's she's wondering,
trying to free herself from the past,
trying to survive from the past.

old grannie, old crannie.
she knows how she is,
she reminds the forgetful people early
because she knows what will she be,
and she will forget it.
she's afraid.
that's why.

she loves everything,
she holds it hard, tightly.
till her hands bleeding,
she don't wrap it and take it to the doctor.
she heals her hands herself.

open your eyes, blind raihana.
notice.
notice.
notice.

— Raihana Shamsul, 15.

9.20 pm, Khamis, 16 march 2017.