My grandma is pretty like an old violin
Her angelic voice puts babies to sleep
Her hair is soft like violin strings
When babies cry,
Her relaxing lull puts them to sleep
A melody so beautiful, a perfect little song
A tone so delicate it makes the world calm
Sometimes she sounds off key like an angel with clipped wings
But some can’t see the beauty that exists in broken things
At the end of the day
An old violin still plays
Because it’s been through everything
Grandma has seen spring and sunny days
And crispy leaves during the fall
Even after experiencing bad things, she keeps her head up
And doesn’t let anything bother her