Nana
I can’t live without her
The letter said
His body for days in the house
Found dead
Hanging from a rope
From his garden
He used to chase us away
Until one day
He stood before me
Asking for ink
Black it should be
Grampa Roet
A sad and lonely man
Since his Nana died
From hot milk spilled on her
A lovely old couple they were
About this entry
You’re currently reading “Nana,” an entry on Gladius Poeticus
- Gepubliceerd:
- juli 8, 2012 / 11:00 pm
Gladius Poeticus 
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