Student Publishing Program ::

Jessica Oh

Grandmother

An old woman with the finger-thick glasses.
Her hair was like a shiny, soft snow.
I talked with her once.
She asked me who I was
With a small, slender, shaking voice.
I answered, “I am your son’s daughter.”

I recently heard that
She passed away a month ago.
As if missing a heart,
I wasn’t even sad.
But like dripping water from a faucet,
Water was flowing down my cheek.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2011 EDITION]