I love the memories of My Grandmother and her burst of wonder at Christmas,
that aluminum tree with the decorations inch by foot the beauty of a day on my Mind,
such hugs from the season that brought her incredible to the front of her living room on display.
My grandparents had a beautiful Home on the hill in Roseburg,
Oregon the State of magnified groves off Forests and shows,
the view from the Windows over the downtown city made Season stretch to memorized at Stand.
The dawn of breadth is in the simplicity yet always the Prized,
those Day Cores!!
Popcorn stringing to warmth touch ching the Cent,
it truly brought my life the Vine of Times on the Grow,
farms with stories,
travels with their car to Photographs and gardens of sew Much to that method of eh Operators store.
While the journey is well on the shores of Outer wealth Tis the grace that furthers my trust,
earth a compass,
the ground of land to hold truth over all the doubt that People have shoved as Dinner conversation,
my treat to their gratitude was that I was not a joke.
Each placed their care to my extreme in scared,
with technique of calm my grandparents brought my life a delivery of just love,
embracing my slight as a difference by which my grandparents held me grand.
In those simple moments that took that fright from my shore to speak gentle Clear in,
the directions of sound in the storm that my grandparents knew I had beached in the From,
so froth was not made an anxious shiver to skull my thought,
the timely arms of steady on the grow to knowing the scamper of my scared of the whirl.
With that as a tremendous whistle to this chilly reality of a Global skill of sigh lent,
I brave only the spice to savor those words that carried my chorus in quiet language,
to touch upon the letter that describes that patience would be to know that is the best of loan to these cold days of iced coaled.
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