Grandma smiles her secret smile
and she pretends she does not hear
as she recalls the dashing style
Of her unknown cavalier.
Who used to sing love songs to her.
When she was young so long ago
and she remembers how things were.
She wonders if she’ll ever know
And so to bed perchance to dream
of being sweet sixteen again.
A maiden held in high esteem.
But this is now and that was then.
The tinkle of a mandolin
from the dark courtyard far below.
Recalls forgotten memories
that swiftly come and slowly go.