They never knew me.
The granddaughters with the brown hair and hazel eyes.
They wanted to, of course, but they never could.
They won’t ever know my laugh,
The way I gave praise;
They’ll never know the way I loved,
The way I gave;
The only connections they have to me,
One is distant, one kept close.
So I’ll put a piece of me in them,
A bit of me to call their own.
My attitude, my happiness;
My love of life.
My smile, my behavior,
So they can know me at last.