In the twilight of the evening’s glow, Grandad’s stories would softly flow. His voice, a whisper of the past, Telling…
In the garden where the lilacs bloom, Grandad’s laughter breaks the gloom. His stories woven with threads of gold, Echoing…
In the garden where roses bloom, I hear whispers of your gentle tune. Grandad, your stories like morning dew, Refresh…
In silent strength, he stands tall, An unwavering guide through it all. His hands rough with years of toil, Yet…
In the quiet moments of dusk, I recall The strength you wielded, the love so pure, Your laughter echoing through…
In the twilight of the evening, his stories would unfold, Tales of yesteryears, rich and bold. His voice, a gentle…