a poem in my pocket

I think I must be younger than I am;

Still looking for a mirror that’s wrinkle free.

Hey, only special peeps may call me Gram.

I really do not need the “senior discount” plan,

Send back those letters from  A.A.R.P.!

I think I must be younger than I am.

Adults who call me Grandma?  I take it “like a man”

but wonder whether they can count to three!

‘Cuz only special peeps may call me Gram.

Kids fill the house with music; it’s time for us to jam.

Can chaos and commotion inspire poetry?

I think I must be younger than I am.

Blond boy and baby girl, sweetest members of our fam,

Come snuggle in my arms or re-read books across my knee.

Yes, only special peeps may call me Gram.

So many birthday candles? I just cannot understand.

My truest friends are winking because they all agree,

I really must be younger than I am,

And only special peeps may call me Gram!