Grandmother...

 

                                               Do you remember we go to walk. Then you tell me that there are small people in the mountains just like me. you said, them were waiting for me to speak. So... I'm comforted by the beauty of those stories. The cold wind blowing through the Karaba and Bovitiya trees still hums the poems you recited. I still remember making our hands and feet out of wrinkled hands. The scent of milk that comes through the room. The picture of you hanging on the wall still looks at us and smiles. 

                                             

                                              I know, when you see us your old milk veins fill with love, milk drops come out. You had not only children but also a beautiful heart that would love to see grandsons become king. Princesses in the wild, small people, boys who caught thieves, golden swans, are still coming looking for you. But no one knows that the joke made by chinese friend went too far😢. this is a dream for us. In any case, the image of my grandmother still lingers in our hearts.