The Past Memory

Grandmother gave me a embrace,
In the familiar,warm place.
Recalling that scene
The scene I've often seen,
Right now,
The scene becomes things that the reality doesn't allow,
After I left.
The theft,
Not done by the thief,
Was from myself.
I stole the good time,
The time warm and warm,
Of my own.
Again and again I cram the memory,
Afraid of forgetting the love she had to me.