She sits in her room of silence,
Her hands are weak and old,
It's hard for her to remember,
I was the grandchild she use to hold.
She looks at me with wonder,
As her eyes try hard to see,
Sometimes I have to wonder,
Does she really know it's me?
I hold her hand so gently,
And kiss her on the cheek,
She moves her lips to mutter,
As she tries so hard to speak.
I study her so carefully,
How did she get this way?
She lived her life to the fullest,
But is this the price she has to pay?
The hands of time keep moving,
And as she folds her hands to pray,
She waits in her room of silence,
For God to take her away.
So if you have a grandparent,
Who is old and needs you too,
Give them all the love you can,
Because someday it will be you.

© Alice Donatelli

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