Grandma
As she took her feeble steps
One placed after another,
Before she was my child's grandma
She was my precious mother.
Tired and old and back is bent
From the many years gone by
Her hair is gray and voice is low
As she walks slowly by my side.
In her eyes I still see the smile
As she took so little and gave so much
And the pain that she has received
While she always gave me love.
Clouds above us so pure and white
As I look at my mother at my side
I close my eyes and I see a new fallen snow
And then I think, she's purer than white.
poem by Randy McClave
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
