A personal message dedicated to my special nana.

Ashen skin
as wrinkled as my shirt.
Delicate, fragile fingers
that could break with
the smallest pressure.
Tiny, petite frame
so still. Too still.

My Nana is Gods gift to young children,

Dedicated to my grandmother, Norma Cooper Swartz.

A reflection back on the summers that I spent with my grandparents, or should I say my tour guides through the jungle.

A poem.

A poem I wrote in my writing notebook, for my grandmother.

The beginning…

Another Nana poem.

A poem for my Nana…