For My Grandfather
I can still see him sitting there His hands so withered and old In the depths of his blue eyes Were so many stories to be told The smoke from his pipe drifted Like tiny halos above his head As he told me my bedtime stories Then tucked me into bed From his favourite comfy chair He taught me many a thing About life and love and laughter And what the future may bring As I grew from a lass to a woman Through those difficult teen years He was always there to confide in About my hopes and dreams and fears Never once did he pass judgment Not even when my hair was green Or when I joined a punk rock band And sang lyrics that were quite obscene How I wish that he were here now Just one more chance to touch his face Though many men have come and gone There is none that could take his place Sometimes I can almost feel his presence I feel that he is watching over me I hope with all my heart that he approves Of the person that I've come to beI never knew my father, so my maternal grandfather (Grumps) stood in his stead. This poem is for you Grumps ... I love you still. Written December 4th, 2001 © on Dec 04 2001 06:12 AM PST 18 • 0 • 8
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"I can still see him sitting there..."