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Gramma


Her touch is soft and tender,
She's been there all my life.
What will I ever do with out her?
She no longer remembers who I am
On every occasion that we meet.
She hangs on to life,
With all her mite.
We will all miss her,
But for now we'll comfort her.
Gramma, there is no shame,
In your condition.
We're here for you,
'Til the end.

 

Crystal Middlemas 
E-Mail jitter-bug@rocketmail.com