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When you shall die,
I don’t throw you away.
I shall keep you,
And having a dried body,
As he explains hundred years Mummies.
He prefers to asleep,
Not with her Mum,
With her grandma.
When he goes to school,
Kissed her and when,
He comes back home, also 
Kiss her.
Or any time when he goes,
Care for shopping for her.
Not only my son,
Also my daughters,
Love her as much as he
And having a fight for asleep.
Every night formally they complain,
Against each other’s turn.
Sometimes they compromise,
And sleep all three,
With their grandma.
She always talked about them,
When she travels with me.
She is eighty two years old,
Always prefers for cooking.
Although she has lost her eye,
But children don’t put her risk.
He warned to everybody,
Grandma’s room is my room.
I shall asleep always,
With her memories, in the absence.
It is a fact of their affection,
She always feels young.
Although children are British,
But speaks very well,
My mother tongue ‘Punjabi’
And also have eighty years past,
That they have learnt,
From their grandma
And picked knowledge
And experience,
Through her night stories.
They always having a share
And enjoyed their childhood.
I found heaven,
In their co-operation.

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