The Camellias

Memories fly back to a long time ago
When I was barely in my fourth year of life
Swinging on a swing
Eyes twinkling brightly
And my great-grandmother sitting by.
Her hat covers her head of grey
And the brim shadows her aged face
That has gone through way too much
Like when planes with whirring tails
Threw bombs on her village
And she escaped
Her little-girl feet pattering.
But now she smiles and holds my hand,
Gives me a cube of red bean jelly
Which I chew tenderly
Savoring every bite.
The fragrance of camellias pile in my nose
Time rushes like a flood
And I wake, from my dream
As I realize
She is no more.
I weep.