The Worry Beads

Murky orange pellets delicately unite on a slim thread.
Tiny knots closely sit between the beads keeping them in place.
Like a slithering snake scurrying towards its prey,
It is composed to perfection
The gentle pellets curled up are like a cat's body hiding.
The sight of Comfort flutters in the air.

My grandpa’s arms wide open; his warm presence fills the room
He takes his last breath, I look into his eyes.
His hand shaking as he reaches for the worry beads.
The feeling is irreparable like the decades passed.
The beads sit untouched, holding more emotion that could ever be spoken.
Now all that’s left is a memory.