My grandma sang songs each waking day till the moon loomed over our house. 

And she  danced to her own rhythm 

Each morning I would hear her chirp her melody as if it was spring all year round in our house. 

But one spring she grew quiet and  forgot who I was, and forgot who she was, and her magic seemed to fade and I would always take a deep breath before going to see her and leave feeling guilty for not wanting to stay. 

She stayed silent a lot longer than anyone expected her to, 

But she was waiting for people to come and sing to her. 

And when they did, she cried tears that had dried up years ago 

And her skin turned white and she  flew away to her love like a dove at dusk. 

Now I only see her when I lift the veil to that place where only the moon shines, but she’s still dancing and singing and telling me to sing my song too!

Dedicated to Halmuhnee 

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