An open letter to chicks  like thee,
You wait until you're nearly sixty-three,
You'll end up talking like me,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society,
Fine-thinking women, very snippy,
Got no time for nasties and rudies,
"What's this?" "What's for tea?"
"A plate of good manners from me!!"
(And the Dead Grandmas Society!)
A fact of life, real scary,
When you're nearly sixty-three,
Words appear from the clouds, prithee,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society.......

I reminisce on Grandma's hands,
Her visions of Heaven's lands,
Spectacles of repose so grand,
Summer floral perfumes,
Velvet pastures for rooms,
Eternal light so divine,
Ambrosia, sweeter than wine,
I reminisce on Grandma's hands,
Gnarled, old but natural,
Her songs, hymns so musical,
Her life well spent, faithful,
I reminisce on Grandma's hands,
Her dreams came true, that's grand,
Souls in repose, in Summerland,
Her visions of Heaven's lands,
Yes,  I recall our Grandma's hands.

I love grandma's garden.

It's an oasis filled with love.

Grandma's garden is a pleasant place;

A quiet place,
A place where I can dream,
The place where I am loved,
A place where I can be myself,
A place where I feel safe.

Stars of many colors in the sky of green.
Reds, blues, whites, purples, yellows, pinks, and greens
Are seen…

Each flower is blooming with a promise of a smile,
Grandma's garden is such a happy place,
It puts a smile on my face.

I love grandma's garden...

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.