In the quiet hum of twilight’s glow,Grandad’s stories softly flow,Whispers of a world long past,Echoes that forever last.His hands, worn with time’s embrace,Hold tales of love and endless grace,With every word, a lesson shared,In his wisdom, we are ensnared.The garden blooms where he would tread,Life and laughter, gently spread,Beneath the trees where shadows play,He guides us still, in his own way.Though time may steal his gentle voice,In our hearts, we make the choice,To carry forth his gentle light,Through every storm, through every night.