In a world painted soft with dawn's embrace, Lies the warmth of Bonnie's gentle trace. Grandmother, with books by her side, In small cafes where mornings abide. Fishing tales and wildflower dreams, Days that flowed like murmuring streams. Her cool van took us on endless quests, At fairs, winning treasures, always the best. In her bed, with stories spun before sleep, Where secrets of cards she'd slyly keep. With laughter bright and solace near, The comfort of her back-scratch so dear. Agate hunts and solitaire's playful chase, Times she let victory light my face. Always smiling, her wisdom unfurled, Telling me I was a gem in this world. I long for those curls, the warmth of her arms, When sickness bowed, she'd bring her charms. Her love, a beacon that never fades, In my heart, her memory lovingly stays. Though she's gone, in prayer, I seek, The promise of meeting where skies are meek. In blessed dreams, where loss retreats, With cherished memories, my soul she greets.