Grandmothers are mothers who are grand,
Restoring the sense that our most precious things
Are those that do not change much over time.
No love of childhood is more sublime,
Demanding little, giving on demand,
More inclined than most to grant the wings
On which we fly off to enchanted lands.
Though grandmothers must serve as second mothers,
Helping out with young and restless hearts,
Each has all the patience wisdom brings,
Remembering our passions more than others,
Soothing us with old and well-honed arts.