In the quiet whispers of the evening breeze,
I hear the stories of yesteryears,
Tales of courage and tender care,
From grandparents who are always there.

Their eyes, a window to the past,
Reflecting moments that forever last,
Hands that have weathered time’s embrace,
Holding us with gentle grace.

Through laughter shared and lessons learned,
Their wisdom is a gift, unearned,
In every wrinkle, a memory stored,
In their presence, we are restored.

As days go by, their love remains,
A constant in life’s changing lanes,
Grandparents’ hearts, so pure and true,
Forever guiding us in all we do.