Eighty Blooms (Song for Grandma Rose)

White flour drifting like a winter cloud You taught our heavy hands to shape the rising of the yeast No need to speak our gratitude aloud The simplest kitchen table was a holy feast Up on the creaking pine of that front porch You’d paint the quiet twilight with the stories of your youth Holding up the memories like a steady torch Feeding hungry minds with a little bit of truth Oh, Grandma Rose, look at the garden you made Eighty years of light, and not a single color fades We are the wild seeds you watered with grace Finding our peace in the lines on your face Thank you for every sweet bloom in the shade Your apron smells of lavender and thyme A map of gentle strength in every crease upon your hand You watched us tumble up through nursery rhymes Into the tallest trees in this quiet land Time moves slow when the acoustic strings play But eighty years of love went by in a heartbeat, they say Now we stand together, your legacy grown In the warmest sanctuary we have ever known Oh, Grandma Rose, look at the garden you made Eighty years of light, and not a single color fades We are the wild seeds you watered with grace Finding our peace in the lines on your face Thank you for every sweet bloom in the shade Eighty years of beautiful rose... Still blooming. We love you, Grandma.