In the quiet corners of my mind, she lingers still,
With hands that crafted warmth from yarn and thread.
Her eyes, a well of stories, whispered low,
As time wove memories in silver strands upon her head.

Her laughter, a melody of days gone by,
Echoes in the chambers of my heart.
She taught me the language of patience and love,
With every stitch, she wove a piece of art.

The scent of freshly baked bread fills the air,
A tender hug that never fades away.
In her kitchen, life was seasoned just right,
Each recipe a tale that dared to stay.

Though years have flown and distance grows,
Her spirit anchors me in stormy seas.
Grandmother’s love, a beacon ever bright,
Guiding me through life’s uncertainties.