I write this poem with whispers on the breeze,
Of parents lost, too young to hold their knees.
Grandkids unseen, stories left untold,
A love’s sweet melody, forever on hold.

Though stars now hold them, distant, ever bright,
Their spirit lingers in the fading light.
In laughter’s echo, eyes that hold the sea,
A glimpse of them, forever lives in me.

We trace their features in each playful face,
The stubborn chin, the smile’s familiar grace.
In bedtime stories, whispered soft and low,
Their love unfolds, a seed begins to grow.

We build sandcastles where they walked the shore,
And sing the songs they hummed to me before.
Their absence hangs, a tear that won’t descend,
Yet in their memory, our love will transcend.