I lovingly dedicate this poem to my three grandson's
Caleb, Branden and Joshua
Three sets of tiny hand prints,
Are branded in my heart,
The essence of their love
Will forever be,
A vital living part.
My mind rewinds so many scenes,
Of grama's charming trinity,
Milk and cookies, chocolate kisses,
Race cars, star wars and transformers too,
I remember very clearly,
But it was the tiny hands in mine,
That I cherish "oh" so dearly.
My how fast time has flown,
The oldest is much taller than I,
With a shock of dark hair
And a drop dead smile, A computer whiz
An estate sale haggler,
A big guy now, his hands larger than mine,
But when he hugs me
I see love in his eyes.
The middle one now lives far away,
Only God knows how much I miss him,
He used to bring me flowers,
He said I made him happy,
Bright, handsome, as funny as a clown,
In sports he's really fine,
I wonder does he remember?
His tiny hand in mine.
There's a happy ending to this story,
One small hand still fits into mine,
A gorgeous little boy,
That's a game cube kind of guy,
His big brown eyes sparkle with love,
Each time that they meet mine
And when we part hugs, kisses and
Grama, I love you with all my heart.