I am twenty eight
This december morn
But the winter sky
Is bleak and dry
Upon these haunting trees.
She is sixty!
She is sixty!
With her cloudy eyes.
And her faroff smile,
But when the day nears to an end,
She is still there for me.
She is still there for me,
All through these wandering years.
She is sixty
O my grand ma!
Is so dear to me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
She is sixty! With her cloudy eyes. And her faroff smile, But when the day nears to an end, She is still there for me. She is still there for me, All through these wandering years. It's a great ode to your love and concern for your grandmother. Thanks for the sharing of the lovely poem.10 for it. Subhas