My Freshly Picked Fruit

It looks like my baby sister
But in fact it’s my grandma

Every page, is a whole new story
A reminder of my highs and lows
This “book” is truly so much more
Than photos and decorative junk

It’s powerful like a drop of tear
This is, the real meaning of beauty

Every single time I open this book
My face shines with memories
Every single time I close this book,
Sparks of sadness ignite inside me

As fresh as a fruit that has just been picked
So tempting to eat but so precious to keep

At the same time like a hoary granny
Who has got knowledge in all things
It was created not so long ago
But will surely be everlasting