The Granny's Child

Ah, Her funny giggles tickle me
Every time she looks at me.
My little girl standing, holding a laugh
Changing her tone like a bird's charming chirp.

Oh, my little laughing flower
Blossoming even in the gold autumn.

Warming the walls in the days of cold
Firing the snow, to make it warm.

I don't know, what she finds so funny in this wrinkled face
Maybe the way it shrinks or the way it expands
Like a raisin kept in sun or in water
Or maybe, her wrinkles which she thinks
To own tomorrow.