Her gentle touch lives on in me
As it did when I was small.
Her outstretched arms support me still
And keeps me standing tall.
Her lap, sometimes my refuge
Her breast, a pillow ‘neath my head.
Her voice, a soothing lullaby,
Together these became my bed.
In her eyes I was so special.
Could she see the pride in mine?
When the love she gave to me was passed
To the next one down the line.
I celebrate her life today,
For she still is like no other.
Love always returns when its given away,
She taught me, my Grandmother.
[ by: Frances Eileen Pace -- submitted by: Frances Eileen Pace (firstname.lastname@example.org) ]
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