In the garden where daisies bloom,
Grandpa sits with gentle grace,
His stories weave through the golden room,
A tapestry of time and space.

His laughter dances with the breeze,
Whisking away our childhood fears,
In his eyes, the world’s mysteries,
Echo the wisdom of the years.

Hands worn by seasons, strong yet kind,
Crafting tales from distant lands,
With every word, our hearts entwined,
In the warmth of his gentle hands.

As twilight falls, a soft goodbye,
His spirit lingers in the night,
In dreams, we hear his lullaby,
Guiding us with his eternal light.