For Her

I remember

Giselle and her grandmother.

The cold tiles

The loud squeaky door

The warm carpet

Darkness of the room

Loud snores 

The cold sheets

Soft trace

From rough skin

Scent of handcream

Wrinkly fingers

little cuts

I remember

Leaving my father’s side

She was expecting my visit

Just enough room

In her tight embrace

The various outlines along

My temple

My eyelids

My nose