Grace

In a world of living, where stories unfold, There's a woman of grace, with a heart of gold. She stands tall and thin, a beauty so rare, Her silver lining hair, a crown she wears. A smile that captures time, radiating light, She's kind, loving, strong, a beacon in the night. Independent and fierce, she blazes her own trail, A woman we call mom, her love will never fail. Some call her grandma, the matriarch divine, Guiding generations with wisdom so fine. Others call her boss, a leader with command, Her influence and strength, they truly understand. But there's one name that whispers, a touch of sly, They call her foxy, a spark in her eye. For she's not bound by age, she's timeless and free, Embracing her allure, with grace and glee. She's a living testament, a masterpiece untamed, A symbol of resilience, her spirit unclaimed. In this world of living, she's a force to be reckoned, A woman of substance, her legacy beckons. Romique