Page 28 - Lavender-B-4

Let’s read a poem about Grandma’s love.

I got some jam on her new couch,

But Grandma doesn’t care.

I lost my toothbrush, dropped a glass,

My old jeans have a tear.

I tipped the cat dish on the floor,

My feet are always bare,

The way I look is a disgrace,

But, Grandma doesn’t care.

She’s very busy, then she sees,

What are some
The tangles in my hair activities that you Let’s connect
usually enjoy doing with
She gets a brush, I make a fuss, your grandparents?

But, Grandma doesn’t care.

When I am grown, and on my own,

When visits become rare,

I won’t forget the love I’d get

When Grandma didn’t care.

tear: (here) a hole
bare: not covered by anything
disgrace: (here) shameful
tangles: a twisted mass of hair
make a fuss: to become angry
and complain
rare: not happening very often

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