Katrina's+Descriptive+writing

__//**`Memory Tears.**//__

As I gaze at the towering statue it’s like pushing play on the movie of my memories. With pride and dignity, I stand tall secretly watch the movie in my **//mind//**. The trickle of my cold tear brings me back to reality and I tune in to the speech of the wise and elderly man. I take a glimpse of my surroundings. Behind me, an elevated building scrapes the top of the cheerless blue mat that shields the Earth. I hear the silvery sound of the chirping birds, being over-written by the uproarious sound of the burnished trumpet. My **__//grandson//__** turns and asks why I’m crying. I then discover that I have **//formed a small//** water way gushing from my chest-nut eyes. I rest my old creased hands on the shoulders of my grandson. My husband’s medals lay over my grandson’s **__precious__** heart. I see **//water increasing//** in his intense and //genuine// eyes. I hold him close as we shed bitter damp tears and tell him his granddad is **__near.__**

By Katrina George