Grandma always kept a journal,
of each and every trip she took
Every dollar that was spent,
was recorded neatly in her book
She wrote about each sight she'd seen,
as she traveled on her way
Fromt he scenic Smokey Mountains,
to beautiful Pensacola Bay
She recalled driving by cotton fields,
and the smell of orange trees
The way that the citrus scent,
was like perfume in the breeze
She told about the tourist cabins,
where they'd stop at night to rest
About the little bars of soap,
and which places she liked best
Each page was like a snapshot,
a permanent record she could share
And as you read each entry made,
it was as if you too were there