In the garden of memories, they bloom,
Grandsons, with laughter like the morning dew,
Carrying whispers of tales untold,
Their spirits bright, their hearts bold.
From ancient roots their lineage grows,
Threads of history in their eyes show,
The past’s wisdom in their youthful hands,
They tread new paths, in distant lands.
In every smile, a future unfolds,
Dreams of tomorrow in stories told,
Through timeâs river, they will glide,
With loveâs compass as their guide.
Grandsons, the echoes of timeâs song,
In their veins, the past and future throng,
They are the bridges that we find,
Connecting hearts, across the sands of time.