When the grandkids come,
the house feels like home.
It warms my heart.
To see the kids on the run.
Shouts of Poppy,
Mom, Mom, to.
Laughter fills the air.
There's so much to do.
Keep off the steps.
Don't touch that.
Stay inside and play.
Not until you nap.
The place seems so empty.
When we're all alone.
No pitter patters of little feet.
No sounds of joy or little moans.
The house feels like home.
It's the kids that make it right.
Hate to see them leave.
It's so quiet at night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem