dusted shelf of memories

old candles rested atop shelves, usually, a stereo was humming in the distance

of a pleasant room housing an assortment of knickknacks.

i savored the aroma, letting the saccharine melody engulf me.

inhaling through my eyes and seeing with my ears

tasting through gummed teeth

stale air filled with the prospering aroma of tea, really.

of gentle piles of accumulated old things and leather couches.

Cozied up in blankets i can still feel my grandma´s worn fingers softly patting mine,

an embrace meant to satiate a child's restless mind.

I can still see her toes peeking out from under the covers.

Though there was no stereo on, she would wiggle and sway her feet.

As if she could hear something I couldn´t.

Possibly the faint, dying melody of age,

and the sweet cacophony of two people who loved each other dearly.

I had her ashes turned into a necklace, the pendant representing the tree of life.

Often times she sits in my room, patient to be worn on holidays

and taken to family events.

On the days i am able to clasp the beautiful tree to my neck,

i am deeply comforted, as the pendant sits upon my heart,

and sings to me in sweet remembrance.