In Grandma’s Lap
© Grady L. Duncan
As I’ve watched my loving wife,
when she cuddles each grandchild,
I recall those days in my youth,
though it’s been quite a while.
When my day wasn’t going so well,
or when I was tired and needed a nap,
Grandma would remove her apron,
and I’d climbed up into her lap.

The smells of her cooking,
often lingered in her clothes,
mixed with her favorite perfumes,
were as a symphony for my nose.
Those were the days of lullabies,
sung in rhythm of the rocking chair,
while blotting away each shed tear,
indicative of grandma’s love and care.

She never tired of reading stories,
even if repeated o’er and o’er,
making them sound fresh and new,
though read many times before.
She recited all of the nursery rhymes,
or sang some catchy little tune.
I suppose she never grew tired,
for I’d be asleep real soon.

Like sleeping on a drifting cloud,
while angels sang their songs,
somehow when in grandma’s lap,
it righted that days wrongs.
Tears were turned to smiles.
My troubles were put at ease.
The comfort of my grandma’s lap,
is a treasure of my memories.

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