The hands of time

She soundly sleeps against the warmth of gramma love.
Her sweet innocence of birth still fresh.
You touch her baby skin and feel the strength of  it against your weakness.
Was it really that long ago that your momma held you and sang sweetly?
The hands of time turning together to make moments into memories.
Hush little baby don't you cry...
Your gramma's going to sing you a lullaby.