From a time long ago
Their faces are aglow,
When great grandkids are born.
The short time is a thorn
In their old achy hips;
There's a curl in their lips.
The great circle of life
Is full of fun and strife.
The journey's filled with hope.
In the end do not mope.
Remember the good deeds
And watch the young plant seeds.
Remember the tales told.
Celebrate young and old.
