Disappearing Act

Encircled by heaps of crinkled holiday paper,
I sit on the chilled wooden floor.
All the family crammed into one room to open shiny, wrapped presents.
After stuffing ourselves to the brim with mouthwatering, homemade noodles Granny prepared herself,
I glance up from opening a card.
It's from my Granny, she smiles,
her eyes twinkle to see me happy.
As always I get twenty bucks,
her gift to all us grandchildren.
I run up to give her a hug, but she disappears from my hands.
Evaporated to thin air, never to breathe again.
Stolen from me this summer like a kid with a kite in a strong wind.
Never to see her twinkly hazel eyes,
or cuddle with her on the couch.
Can never morsel her oatmeal muffins,
or play with her in the dirt.
I won't hear her giddy laugh
or hear her say she loves me.
Her life echoed away in her sleep,
soul above the clouds where I guess she needs to be.