It all starts on day one; the clock!
Tick tock the first birthday!
More and more birthday cakes;
before you know it, you're old!
My great-granddaughter asks
Grandma, "why are your fingers all crooked? "
"I had too many birthdays, " I said.
"Oh! " She said.
Really a beautiful piece of poetry written with a tinge of humour...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Grandma, " why are your fingers all crooked? " " I had too many birthdays, " I said. Magnificent!
Thank you so much, I usually never receive a comment, especially as nice as " Magnificent"