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Grandmama looked and sounded so weird to me
She always would tell me, "Shmily,...Shmily"
I often reminded her, "It's Billy Gran, Billy."
But she insisted in saying, "Shmily, Shmily."

I saw it a lot, written in gathering dust
0r noted on post it's in the past,
Written in the bathroom mirror full of steam
There's issue really everywhere, I could've screamed!

I asked Grandmama who in the world was Shmily
She just gave me a fondly pat, "oh, Billy... !
Someday you'll know, one day you'll see,
To say that is old, silly Shmily loves me!"

I let it pass, though I was still confused
Meanwhile the years groomed me into a snazzy dude,
Thought I outgrew the mushy, icky sentiments
'Til one day I learned what Shmily really meant.

I chanced upon a box filled with old letters
that Grandmama must have made in past forevers
Each with a lesson and advice on how to be
Then ending with that ubiquitous word, "Shmily."

I further searched through, to find an old tape
Dusty but good, I set it on and played
There was Granny's voice of lullaby, singing to me
See-How-Much-I-Love-You: Oh, that WAS Shmily!