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Image for the poem Wind Song...Still Singing To My Heart (Diary)

Wind Song...Still Singing To My Heart (Diary)

It would set on her doily lined dresser in between her hats and Pearl's.
A light shade of pink with a gold lid.
I loved the smell of Rose that permeated from the jar when she opened it. She would then dip her finger in and get enough to polish the lines and wrinkles on her aging face.
As a child I cuddled next to my grandmother under cold comfy sheets as we said our prayers.  
I miss that woman so much, I ran across that bottle in a thrift store the other day, lost in nostalgia I hurriedly twisted the golden lid to relive that precious memory, and much to my surprise there was still a good bit left in preservation as I plunged my nose in.  
Time had aged the Roses, but the hint of sleepovers with grandma was still there. Such a dear find.
As a grown woman, I now have my own pink jar, every night I lather my face in Rose and honey and reminisce on those special moments.
I miss those days ❤
BrookeAlynn
Written by BrookeAlynn
Published
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TimWombles
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