He saw her.
A black ball of
ghostly hair.
Running around,
giving everyone
goosebumps.
She was born here.
She died here.
She's still here.
I can hear her
between
the silence.
Encouraging me
to play
and enjoy the sun.
The way she always did.
Even when
my grandfather
smacked her
and called her names.
None of that mattered.
Then or now.
Tough love
is still
love.
So much love
she'll never
go away.
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