Nana’s Love Letter
She shut your voice inside four walls,
In a room with words sealed in wax,
With letters trapped by the press of her ring.
From fear of losing what your voice could bring,
She plasters the walls with codes and with locks,
And names herself the silver key.
Of course, you know, this “she” is me.
I’ll save your words and let them grow,
Their life unhitched from your fading matter.
As you asked, I’ll have your voice grow fatter.
Cruelty will steal your past from your flesh, but
I’ll host your sweet speech when He calls.
Yes, I’ll treasure your words inside these walls.