Gentle hands with gentle fingers,
Stroking, patting. His love lingers.
Tiny back and small head nodding.
Feet that move with little prodding.
Your grand babies on your chest,
Snuggled in your shoulder’s nest.
You would walk for endless hours,
Exercising healing powers.
Grandchild here on Poppop’s shoulder,
Where his arms would always hold her,
Safe from all the world and woes,
Slowly, trusting eyelids close.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem