Never Truly Gone

When you think of the word 'Nan' you think grey and old. She was cool, fun with a heart of gold. She was sixty-two when she grew her wings, She was brave, she was a warrior, Years on it still stings. Her laugh, her smile, her soul lit up any room. There was always a fresh smell of a luxury perfume. Eskimo kisses, stories about the world, The love in her eyes, her hair perfectly curled. Reminisce of all the fun we had, All the water fights that we both won. As long as we speak your name, You'll never truly be gone