Brian Beckage
September 2, 2008

I dreamt of my grandmother last night.
I sat in her house in the summer,
happy, surrounded by a grandmother’s love.
I woke from the dream and it was late in the morning,
Sunlight was shining through the windows,
A summer breeze lifted the shades and let them fall, gently, again and again.
I lay in bed for a long while,
Listening to the birds in the trees outside my window,
Listening to the sounds of my own children about the house,
Thinking of my grandmother nine years gone.

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