Picture of grandparents-subjects of the poem
...stories that have been filtered through/the rose colored lens of loss... Original Poetry

I get told stories about my mom’s grandparents

stories that have been filtered through

the rose colored lens of loss

How kind how generous how patient

how loving they were,

These people I met when

I still needed someone to feed me.

I get told stories as if somehow,

Retroactively,

I’ll be able to piece together an entire

childhood with them.