On lined paper
The old generation, for a failing grade,
Stacked up words
In a neat hand
And solemnly read them to us —
We listen politely, nearly splitting with laughter:

Very primitive — not printed,
Without artificial intelligence,
Talentlessly rhymed,
With a breach of etiquette.

The audience is embarrassed,
Some laugh.
But grandma loves as she is able,
She mangles it, but from the heart.