In the garden of my twilight years,
Bloom the flowers of my kin,
Grandsons with hearts sincere,
Their laughter a gentle, soothing din.

Eyes wide with wonder and dreams untold,
They chase the sun, the stars, the moon,
With them, my stories unfold,
Turning morning into a golden afternoon.

Little hands that grasp so tight,
In them, I see the hope anew,
They fill my days with pure delight,
A bond that life’s trials cannot subdue.

As seasons change and days go by,
My legacy in them will stay,
Grandsons, the apples of my eye,
Brightening my every day.