Into their lives, a precious gift--
To God in heaven, misty eyes lift.
And when they heard his tiny cry
They smiled and uttered a grateful sigh.
Months grew from days and weeks,
And then in awe they heard him speak,
“Mama, Dada,” then “Gammy” too,
But Grampa’s name he could not do.
Now Grampa certainly understood
The child would say it if he could.
With Gramma’s help he found a way
To speak the name he couldn’t say.
Practice taught him to say “Grrr”
Then “ampa”--words that mimicked her,
Soon Grrrampa spoken with perfection
Melted hearts through its affection.
“Grrrampa,” Jacob said real proud
As Grampa giggled fairly loud,
Scooping Jacob in a warm embrace,
Together they laughed face to face.
And even when he was some older,
The name just stuck like moss to boulders
Until he started school, and then--
No more was “Grrrampa” heard again.
But memories linger in our minds
Like golden nuggets there to find,
These little gems, our buried treasure,
With each resurface, they bring us pleasure.
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