I remember Grandma

Grandma puts the kettle on,

She calms me with her words,

Grandma sings it in a song,

One you may find absurd.

Grandma puts the kettle on,

She taps her wrinkled feet,

Grandma butters bread so thick,

With sliced beetroot that is too sweet.

Grandma puts the kettle on,

She tells me stories of her past,

Grandma talks all day long,

But I hope these stories last.

Now I put the kettle on,

And butter my own bread,

Now I think of Grandma’s song,

That lives inside my head.

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