Lyrics Grandma - PF

My childhood was a garden and grandma was the gardener.
She was crowned with the grey colours of wisdom and age,
The same wisdom she tended my young leaves with.
Her steps were as majestic as that of a lioness
Stalking the predators of her cubs, lithe and smooth
Her palms were callused, echoes of a time that was past
But they too were the soft and gentle digits that gave strength to me,
That held me down when I rose in the
Foolishness of youth with the strength of age.
Her words were the dew from God that fell into my ears,
They were as constant as a shadow,
As gentle as the evening breeze, as sweet as petrichor.
Every morning, as we tended the garden together,
Ma would hold my hand as she raised the
Saplings to soak in the gentle trickle of sunlight.
Every evening, as she bent over them, soaking their roots in water,
Her hands covered with the smell of earth,
She'll sing the most beautiful lullaby to them like
She did to me, but she'll keep her kisses for me alone.