Blowing bubbles, tempting the kids, they look up, but
never leave their stations at the stream of water where
they continue fishing their colorful little fake fish.
Now making mud pies and food for a pretend picnic out-
doors, music filling the air, melodies and rhythms touch-
ing my heart and mind.
A magical mystical spirit filling us totally, throughout
this wonderful joy-filled day with Grandkids and their
Dads.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem