Grandma

A poem I wrote for my grandma

When I was little my grandma was immortal,
She could do anything.
Her skin was still smooth and she always seemed to have neverending energy.
As I got older, so did she.
Her skin tightened, her wrinkles showing signs of aging.
Her eyes showed her tiredness and failing energy.
Now that I am older I realize my grandma is mortal, just like anyone else but...
She STILL can do anything