Writing

"Riches, prestige, everything can be lost. 

But the happiness in your own heart can only be dimmed; 

I should've written it in pencil

I should've known it couldn't last.

Should've told it to a page in an in-between

Far from permanence.

I should've written it in erasable graphite

Should've whispered it to no one

When I lean against my grandma 

On the green couch 

She talks about things that used to be 

Does that mean 

When I’m her 

My grandkids won’t understand 

Everything you do is acceptable

We stand with open arms

At your next word

There’s an imaginary red carpet

Laid out for you in the halls at school