Grandma
Once i wondered sitting in the rain
Why does everyone think of gain?
Is there someone who thinks of others
Oh! I wonder in this lovely weather.
Little rain drops falling down my cheeks
Right when my grandma shrieks
With its sweet smell and her love
A smell of cinnamon and clove
Of her special pudding arrives
Oh my sadness away she drives.
Her words like honey sweetens my thoughts
Yes,there is someone who thinks of others
Oh.. They are the grandmothers
-meha vijan
Copyright © Meha Vijan | Year Posted 2015
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