a tribute to the memory of a special grandmother, but then aren't all?

WATCHING A CHILD WHO IS MINE
by
Larriane Barnard

Watching a child who is mine,
I can see how I’d been once upon a time.
Propping an elbow on her knee,
chin in hand to listen and see.
The stories she told and while she spoke,
a second message in smile and stroke.
I felt the message those years ago.
I feel it still and watch it grow.
With children of children who come to find,
The love of Grandma too special to define