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Short poem or ode if you will. |
Ode to Grandmother Dear Of all the tidings i see near, I hold an ode to grandmother dear, rocking in an old wooden chair, a fuzzy cat upon her shoulder, then without a trace, she was gone, and that old house crept with fire so, How she loved the children so near, and tidied to the kitchen with joy, yet she was so coy, you could bet, a cigarette, was none that she had tried, sitting in her house so safely, the years had been so ever gentle, to provide her with the love of all, just before her stricken fall of grace, I could never imagine why, you wouldn't love grandmother's soul place, reckoning and reminiscing, I sat beside the warm fireside, with her and her beloved cat, until the day she left our loving side |