Her snow-white hair was piled up high
Yesterday’s dreams shone in her eyes?
As she made her memories flow
We sat enthralled, so keen to know
Of life when she was very young
And on each golden word we hung.
Why do children seek to hear
Of grandma’s wisdom down the years
When mother’s words,
Though just as wise
They often fail to recognize?
Or so it seemed in childhood days
When grandma was a shining ray
Of information so profound
She held her audience spellbound.
GRANDMAS are so young today
With hair that is so seldom gray,
But they still have a special place
In children’s quest for the knowledge race.
I WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE TO MY READERS FOR THE TYPOS IN MY LAST FEW BLOGS WHICH WERE TYPED ON MY iPAD! WHICH IS DIFFICULT TO WORK WITH.
Posted in Toronto, Canada.