Silent Farewell
By Emma W
[not published yet]
You lie beside my bed,
gifted by my great, great aunt,
the first and last time I saw her.
The next time she will be dead.
She rattled to the store that held you,
hands clasped around a walking frame.
At ninety years of age
such a special thing to do.
She waited for us to ring the bell,
and placed you in my hands.
Years later, I still hold you from time to time.
Clasped inside my fingers,
soft shell, a silent farewell.