They come into your heart as a wonderful gift from God, above
They are wild and loud and tiring but they are visions of joy and love
They are raised by the people who you once had the chore of raising
And who now have presented you with progenies who you simply cannot stop praising
You sometimes call them little monsters but that is a term of endearment
Their parents lay down rules for them, rules in which you don’t play a part
You feel you should. You know you should but you simply don’t have the heart
They are very loud and energetic but somehow it will not annoy
Because somehow even their noisy visits are a source of happiness and joy
I thank you, Lord each time I hear one of them yell, “Grandpa we love you”
You can only hug them and kiss them and proclaim, “I love you, too
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