“My grandchildren Sam and Lila playing in the mud looking like brown bears!”

In Grandma’s yard, the sun spills gold,  
Sam and Lila, fearless, bold,  
Wiggle toes in earth’s embrace,  
Each splash sends mud to every place!  

Little fingers, dark and slick,  
Sculpt a castle, thick by brick—  
But soon the laughter, wild and free,  
Turns muddy boys and girls, you'll see!  

Sam leaps high, a joyous shout,  
Arms wide—he whirls dirt all about;  
Lila roars with a bristly grin,  
Wipes brown streaks across her chin.  

Now two bear cubs, tumbling, grand,  
With dancing footprints in the sand,  
Sticky-furred and giggling wild,  
The forest floor their playground tiled.  

Grandpa calls—“Who are you there?”  
Sam thumps his chest. “We’re brown bears!”  
Lila gruffs, “We live out here!”  
Both grin, their muddy cheeks sincere.  

Baths await, towels warm and wide,  
But memories won’t soon subside—  
For every smudge and muddy paw,  
Is love that Grandma always saw.

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