We all have different names we call our grandmother.
Some use Mammaw, Nana, grandma or some other.
My cousin Bill first called my grandmother, Mamoo.
By the time I was born, that name would have to do.
I spent every summer with my dear grandmother.
She could cook fried chicken like no other.
Every Fourth of July she'd buy me a lot of fireworks.
Spending much time with her had so many perks.
Sunday night after church we'd go for ice cream.
Making me gain weight I think was her scheme.
Every morning she would wake me with song.
I knew deep inside this woman could do no wrong.
We'd go fishing till she thought we'd caught enough.
She'd tell me we're through, but I knew it was a bluff.
Mamoo kept on fishing at our favorite stocked pond.
I'd since gone to the car now unable to respond.
I loved her more than any grandmother in the world.
Life is still wonderful because of what she unfurled.
One day, I will honor her through my grandchildren.
I'll do for them as she did for me with a bigger grin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem