I still remember that wooden porch, where grandma used to rock,
Never missing a single beat in her apron covered frock.
Talking about her younger days while sipping a cup of tea,
Her hair pulled back in her usual bun, a grandchild on her knee.
Enjoying those Sunday afternoons, her family all around,
Occasionally stopping to listen to the farmhouse filled with sound.
Life just seemed so simple then but I know now it wasn't so,
Days were hard way back when but then with her you'd never know.
Endless hours on household chores, but I never heard her complain,
Need this, mend that, cook this, clean that, then get up and do it again.
Dearest lady, you've been gone so long sometimes the memories fade,
And all it takes is for eyes to close to remember moments you made.
Yes times were tough in those golden days if you listen to old folks talk,
Still, I'd go back to those good ole days when grandma used to rock.
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