*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*
Hi, grandpa, it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass above the nightstand
Remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes,
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma,
She waits for you.
Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed stroking my hair with her hands
I miss the way she rocked me to sleep every night
I stored your hearing aid away
Remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer?
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina soar
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma loved
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandma's favorite scarf
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Remember the way she looked in the yellow pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
Like the walking cane, she handcrafted before she left
Hello, grandpa, it's me again!
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see her again
She will no longer be alone
Say hi to her, give her a kiss
Tell her I miss her so much
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Brutal was the biting wind,
sweeping brown locks of a tiny urchin
side to side, often hiding her eyes.
Oversized slippers she had donned
were lost in deep snow drifts.
She plodded forth barefoot, risking frostbite.
Little daylight remained to guide her;
a dangerous holiday trek she undertook.
Villagers in passing carriages didn't notice her.
With snow falling fast and accumulations growing deep,
she didn't realize she'd left the main road.
If only she could find her grandfather's cottage!
For Christmas Eve it was,
but in her heart there was no joy.
Her cruel stepmother’s house she left in search of love.
As darkness fell, the biting cold increased.
Her weary legs she dragged; with teary eyes she searched
in vain, for only shadows could she see.
A green-clad elf with lantern lit was homeward bound
deep in the woods, when all at once he spied this forlorn girl,
sprawled on the snow deprived of strength and shivering.
He shone the light on her white face; eyelids moved and flickered.
He read her thoughts and understood; he knew just how to help her.
No time was lost; his crystal flute he blew to call his trusted friends.
An entire family of elves pulled the shivering child,
placing her gently on a sled,
fully decked out in Christmas flare.
The elves had been on their way to Santa;
Yuletide deliveries had to be made,
but the wee girl's plight took priority.
Once she was aboard the sled,
reindeer arrived on cue,
ushering the crew to the North Pole.
The little girl came to quickly,
nestled in Santa's arms.
With pleasure he brought her to her grandfather's cottage.
Grandfather sat alone by his roaring fire
when a knock came to the door.
He went to see who it could be so late into the night.
There on the doorstep his young granddaughter stood with shining eyes,
a dream come true for those who never give up hope.
He picked her up in welcome arms, a warm embrace of love.
The clock struck twelve. They heard the sound of jingling bells
as Santa waved goodbye and off he sped across the sky.
Christmas had arrived, and his first gift had been delivered!
[Inspired by the first paragraph of The Little Match Girl by H.C. Andersen]
Co-written by: Paul Callus~Carolyn Devonshire~Valentina Stagno-Navarra
Contest: A Christmas Tale
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014
I might make a noise right now
There will be a time when I go silent
Will you miss my racket?
In those days of silence?
I will no longer yearn for your presence
Like I do at this very moment
Will you wonder?
Will you wish?
For that good morning?
I might be a nuisance right now
I might ask you the same thing over and over
My voice will go silent
All I ask today is be patient with me
Please love me; with your ears
Please love me; with your time
Before all you will have
Is my grave and the memories…
"Thoughts of the aged - loneliness don't discriminate "
Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2015
I wandered and travelled
Nor knew where I'd gone .
Life became a problem;
T'was one long cruel song.
My problems seem to multiply;
They came from every side.
I vowed to find the answer;
by this I would abide.
I looked into nature
And tore apart my mind.
Then put them on the table
To see what I could find.
I found that I'de been greedy
and avaricious, too.
Whenever projects of mine failed
I put the blame on you.
I found that I was lonely;
I thought you didn't care.
But what I really didn't know
Was you were always there.
You tried to fill the void
That always was in my Life.
you tried to ease the sorrow
You've been a real good Wife.
Yvette & Grandpa Murray
From James Murray to , Janet Murray ..his beautiful wife.
" In great respect of Grandfather Murray's poem he wrote for my Grandmother Murray "
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Of all the different kinds of love with which we could be blessed,
perhaps it is our Grandpas love that ranks among the best.
What truly matters most in life, he's lived enough to know
and nothing's more important than to help his family grow.
All the little twists and turns that life has thrown so far,
times have changed alot since then but he's been where we are.
Grandpa knows how difficult adversity will be.
He's had his share of ups and downs and seen what our eyes see.
Grandpa has a gift to give that makes his life complete.
It's wisdom for the life we'll live, a gift that's bitter-sweet.
The years it takes to know such things consumed most of his days.
So little time we've left to learn from Grandpas wiser ways.
To see his family better off because of what he shared,
just knowing even one of us had listened so and cared,
A right of passage draws complete, accomplished and fulfilled
with all the things that matter most, successfully instilled.
The day will come when Grandpa won't be there to see us through
but all the things he taught us still remain forever true.
Just look inside your searching hearts, for there will Grandpa be,
saying "Do your best, stay the course and protect your integrity!"
Copyright © Jeannie Minor | Year Posted 2015
When crashed to earth that mightful Oak
O'er that long. a'frighted night,
His tears did so high homage speak
As to slumber passed his Light...
Shoulders small, no more host to hands
Whose tender firmness helmed
Their little lad, and life, and joy
In eternal love enrealmed.
Trudged he stoic, that deserts waste
With heart beset and stormed,
His soul a stone-turned edifice
Then from parched dreams was formed
A kind but spectral silohette
Up from the nighted sands,
As boyish eyes enlivened gazed
Once more upon old hands...
They held a heart which yet did beat,
"For you, my bonnie Dan!
I'll love you from Forever, boy,
And in Love, live as a man..."
Ah, but dream, for now he wakes-
But so curious a thing!
For in his grasp there rests some sand
Which waking did not bring!
Copyright © Michael Grugan | Year Posted 2008
My grandfather and I had a special relationship.
When I was young we lived near his home in Baltimore. But, my family moved away from
Baltimore when I was five and we lived most of my life in another state far away from my
grandfather. Whenever he called, however, I was the one grandchild he always wanted to
talk to so we could discuss his beloved Baltimore Orioles. I was the one grandchild who
followed sports closely and always remained a true Baltimore sports fan.
Later in life, I learned that my grandfather was actually a gifted baseball player himself when
he was young. In those days, he would explain, professional baseball players did not make
enough money to support a family so he had to make up his mind to either play baseball or
get married and raise a family. As it turned out, his love for baseball was only surpassed by
his love for my grandmother and, although he hung on to the newspaper clippings that
labeled him a “can’t miss professional baseball prospect”, he hung up his cleats and glove,
married my grandmother and went out to find a “real” job.
But his love for the game survived and year in and year out, he and I discussed the
intricacies of the game and enjoyed or lamented each baseball season based on the
successes and/or failures of the Baltimore Orioles. As crummy as the Baltimore bums are
today, I was fortunate enough to experience and share many more successful seasons than
poor ones during those limited years that I shared life with this amazing man.
I always felt sorry for my grandfather, considering him a victim of poor timing. Had he
been born about 50 years later in life, he would not have had to pick between being a
baseball player or earning a living – in fact, with his talent, he could have earned a much
better than average living while enjoying the one thing he loved most in life.
When my grandfather passed away, I was sure that he was joining a heavenly nine to once
again strap on his spikes and don the leather. Without a doubt, they must play baseball in
heaven. And I wait for the day that I sit in the heavenly bleachers and cheer on a young
grandfather playing this wonderful game with other boys of summer.
(Inspired by, “is there baseball in heaven”, by Constance, A Rambling Poet)
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010
We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,
Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...
These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken
Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"
Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013
When we are with you, we always have fun,
You make us feel we're your special ones!
If we really need a hug or two,
we know that we can always depend on you.
Giving hugs is what grandparents do best,
And you do it better than all the rest!
Everything that my grandma does
is something special made with love.
She take time to add the extra touch
that says, "I love you very much."
She fixes hurts with a kiss and smile
and tell good stories grandma-style.
It's warm and cozy on her lap
for secret telling or a nap.
At 1 in the afternoon,It is always grandpa's call.
he asks"this app.... how to install??"
My Grandpa is a wonderful man,
Always believed in me, he knew that I can.
Wisdom of life, openly shared,
Comforted me, when I was scared.
Here is a secret, and it is true-
Grandma & Grandpa, my hearts belongs to you!
Copyright © sakshi sitoot | Year Posted 2014
The poem is dedicated to my Mom..My bestest buddy ever..
wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare
Mom - You are my harmonious World!!!!
MOM you are a beautiful angel who always had an great heart of making my problems simpler..just cant compare you with anyone in this world..You have been moonlighting in my life since many years..you are my shadow,you are my strength,you are great friend of my mine..thanks for being the bestest mom ever in my life..you struggled so hard for curving my career,u painted ma life with colourful rainbows,thanks for ur patience when I get panicked,you knw how to handle me..My life will be incomplete without you..I can't spend a single day without having thought abt you..you always shower with an unconditional love..you are the mesmerised persona..who lime lighted my life..my world..Wish you a very happy birthday and happy mother's day too..Love you mummy..
Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare
Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013
The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.
A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.
When patriotism was not just a word
by what men lived and judged the worth of each,
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend.
An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station,
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet.
Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.
What greater honor, that when a man moves forward,
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was.
A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior,
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.
The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now.
Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember,
because he now resides forever in our hearts.
As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye,
as he draws upon his pipe,
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
Here lies the best Grandfather,
One who was very considerate.
Remembering him as a child,
I would sit on his lap.
He was a rare person indeed.
He was a colonel in the Army.
Also superlative of a gentelman.
Here lies the best grandfather,
May he rest in peace.
Copyright © Sarah Cassleman | Year Posted 2013
Let another sun set,
Let another flower wilt,
Let another autumn cast its gloom,
Let another tear role,
As ye part, and bid
The final adieu.
St. Stephen’s college
Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013
Gravity pulls my tears into pools.
Im sinking in sorrow -emotional fuels.
Just turn back the time, I just want a moment.
To say goodbye once, to cherish and own it.
I loved my granddad - a man more than great.
Paired with my Granny as the perfect mate.
A montage of memories that rush my soul.
My eyes fill with tears, I'm losing control.
Just keep it together, it's what he would want.
They all say the same, but I stand in front.
Happiness swells, yet sadness prevails.
Like Christ on the cross, with hands full of nails.
Life has a reason, and death isn't treason.
-It's moving on up.. A lifetime's a season.
I look to the sky and say my goodbye.
The time won't turn back, I gave it a try.
I close my eyes and imagine this-
Paradise in a place full of bliss.
World peace in a piece of the world.
Without loss and bombs never hurled.
Snow that falls that doesn't freeze.
Sun that shines that doesn't cease.
A land where "The forever" is real.
A scene where the sick always heal.
Life with infinite love, like gusts in the wind.
Two little doves, with eternities to spend.
God has a plan, fool-proof to the core.
Now Granddad's with him, a reward of much more.
Copyright © Yours Truly | Year Posted 2013
It was a tin-roof wooden house standing
Across the red brick cobblestone street
Adjacent to a wide open field full
Of shady live oak and sweet smelling tangerine trees where
My father’s boyhood home was nestled
Quietly in his home town.
Often times we’d travel to visit
The grandparents still living there
In that Americana corner of our lives.
We didn’t know much of anything at all except
The sky was blue, love was true and we
Youngsters were the apples of the old folk’s eyes.
We’d sit for hours in white wicker rocking chairs
I helped paint one time with newspaper on the floor
And a horsehair brush grandma gave me
To teach me that painting needn’t be a lesson
In staying between the lines. “Sometimes,” she’d say,
“It’s better to let the paint flow
And speak for itself in time.”
And granddad liked to watch the sky – especially at night
When stars were burning bright and would point towards Polaris and say:
“Heaven’s over that a-way.” And during daylight hours
When storm clouds appeared and we could hear
Thunder and lightning all around, he’d laugh and dance
As if the circus were coming to town.
We watched mocking birds and blue jays flying in and out
Of all the tree top branches and leaves singing
Their love making lullabies to us and one another and then
As quickly as they arrived,
Disappeared into the wind.
It seems we’re not much different
Rather family, foe or friend.
Accordingly, the old house still stands today
But the dear old folks have slipped away.
Perhaps to the place once pointed to
High above that night sky view
Where comets roam and grandpa liked to call “Up yonder,”
Leaving me with thoughts of gold
And memories made to ponder.
Copyright © Terrell Martin | Year Posted 2013
Old Dogs and Children**
always a plus.
Took care of business.
Found my teeth -
meditated on its scent
Met the dog at the door
(no explanation necessary)
Made breakfast for two.
grumps, grunts and
hugs with wife,
confidante and lover
(all at the same time)
-cutting the grass
-washing the truck
-bathing the dog
-planting some flowers
-colonizing the moon
Woke up - refreshed
Didn’t do any of the above.
Visited five month old granddaughter
-Grandma fed her
-played on floor(with baby)
-stayed on floor(to recover)
meditated on its scent
Met the dog – again.
Shared a quiet(?) supper.
Exchanged good nights
grumps, grunts and
hugs with wife,
confidante and lover.
John G. Lawless
**with apologies to Tom T. Hall
Song title “Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine
submitted to – Today I Accomplished – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Sara Kendrick
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015
In his damp, snail smelly, back yard, water boiled in a vat.
"Hurry honey", said Grandpa, "the tide has just gone out".
In my six year old mind, we were in for a "great big treat".
Willingly, I'd fill my bucket full with sand crabs we'd all eat.
Overcast dark sky and dank fishy cold wind didn't dampen
spirits while scanning wet sand for holes that were sunken.
Intently digging, then oh so thrilled, I yelled,"I found one!"
Clunk! Into my little tin sand bucket it fell; one prize won.
Sadly looking, seagulls mocking, I'd managed only eight.
Grandpa smiled, dumped them in the vat with, "GREAT"!
Copyright © Charlene McCutcheon | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
Pictures and moments stick
Past life sticks
The boy knows but cant see the light of
the unknown picture of you grandpa.
Copyright © Ace X | Year Posted 2012
My Little Ballerina
I love you more than you can possibly know.
Somehow I missed the moment
I didn't get to see her twirl.
My little ballerina
my little dancing girl.
Loving her forever
even long before she's born.
I loved every step she took
and every dancing shoe she's worn.
Born against the odds they said
she's born of holy water.
My little dancing angel
my only daughters daughter.
With time and distance in between
no way for me to travel.
All the dreams of her and I
I slowly watched unravel.
Still miles can't stop a grandpas love
it speeds across the ocean.
The breeze that's sometimes in your hair
is a grandpas love in motion.
Not seeking fame or fortune
nor love and not romance.
It's on it's way to watch her sway
and see grand daughters dance.
If only in my mind I see
like I've watched from the start.
Every move my little angel makes
I see it with my heart.
Edwin C Hofert
Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015
When i was about 5 i was put in to a SRS. I was there tell i was 7 and when i got out i move to my grandma and grandpa. When i was 9 my older brother started to beet me up every day and all day long and then when the beating he was giving me stop working he started doing other thing to me. When i was 12 i losted my grandma and then my grandpa didn't want nothing to do with use and still don't. i took my brother *****tell i was 15 then started to beat on him. My brother put me in jail for a few year because if the *****he made me do now i am 21 and have losted and got back the girl that i love and care about her name is Holli Sczenski. Her family don't want use together so they are making her choose between them or me she dues not want to have to choose between use she loves use both and i know it and her family know it but there still doing it. On top of all that my own family is going throw somethings as while my mom is not doing vary good and we may or may not lost her in the next few years.
Copyright © william martin | Year Posted 2013
I never met Grandpa
so I do not know
if he ever went dancing
or stubbed his toe.
But I do know
Grandma loved him.
And Grandma died
when was in 8th grade.
So we didn't talk
I am afraid.
But I do know
Grandpa loved her.
Copyright © Lisa Stoffer | Year Posted 2012
He sits on top a dusty shelf;
his care when he showed none.
I think you gave me your
And yet this
the only thing
you gave my family,
better than a beating.
I forgive you because
you are a fellow human,
but I hate you.
I hate how you remind me
that my family is jealous.
I hate how I have to hold
onto you; I don't want you.
You old, dusty,
boxed race truck;
I don't want you.
Copyright © Sean Cannon | Year Posted 2013
Standing there alone at the graveyard
Calling yearning memories of the past
Can't stop his tears , that's truly hard
She has gone , What a dote didn't last!
Shrouded by thoughts , downcast eye
Her voice is still beating in his ear
She was singing like a bird under the clear sky
When he played harp and waterfall was near
Can't forget these hoary promises to be together
On good and bad , To make love their guide
He just wanna say he will be loyal forever
Until his soul meets her on the other side
By: A. Badr
Copyright © Ahmed badr | Year Posted 2014
Strange or not
Odd and fun.
That’s not all
And still are
Strange and odd.
life is life.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move
Lies are life.
Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.
Lies are truth.
Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.
Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.
Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Copyright © Layla Elkoulily | Year Posted 2013
#What we want#
What we want is worth
Let love live,
Peace perfect praise...
...Let long lasting law
rule round reign.
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013
To crouch beside him in the rows,
Counting seeds beneath rainbows.
Three in each hole, I’d count with glows.
He let me help; his garden grows.
To sell the pears he grew and picked.
Red wagon wheels click-click, clacked, clicked.
One penny each, the price was strict.
The neighbor kids their fingers licked.
To shave his beard while on the couch,
To hear his words; those never grouch,
And tales of ghosts for whom he’d vouch.
Yes, all of this without one ouch.
To sit beside him while he sleeps
In quiet stillness without child peeps,
Until, alas, his scare would creep.
Awake he snored; was not asleep.
Or hear the tales of where he’d been
His work on waters with boatmen,
Three busy tugboats from docks to glen.
Granddad, my hero, way back when.
To hear his laughter once again,
Reliving days that were back then.
Alas, his death brought my chagrin.
I live to hug him once again.
Copyright January 14, 2013
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
(Forever Families, God taught the way
Grow pure love of Christ everyday.
That’s what the L.D.S. people say.
I live my life to hug granddad someday.)
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2014
A Home Brew Fiasco
My lips were parched, my tongue on fire
another shot I did so very much desire
Thank my pappy for this kicking home brew
O' Lord, how to make it, if only I knew!
Sun was about set into its rosy red glow
three hills over was square dance and show
I set me a mighty happy and quickened pace
so very eager to get to that dancing place!
I hear that fast fiddle singing from afar
stop to drink last liquor from my fruit jar
Another burn that went down mighty fine
whiskey my favorite, never cottoned to wine!
One more high hill to just climb on past
swirling head tells my legs to please last
Sun has set and darkness so rapidly falls
music rings louder its beckoning calls!
Another hundred steps and I'll be there
singing, dancing and pretty gals everywhere
Ease myself up against this restful oak tree
surely a rest will be so very good for me!
Eyes heavy and dark clouds coming on down
now is no time to worry, no time to frown
Darkness races into this tired old brain
no worries, rest easy avoid all the strain!
Morning sunlights breaks between the trees
O' my, pray I didn't sleep all night please
Suddenly I hear the morning call of a dove
I missed out on last night's dance and love!
My lips were parched, my tongue on fire
another shot I did so very much desire
Thank my pappy for that kicking home brew
O' Lord, how to make it, if only I knew!
Robert J. Lindley , 08-21-2014
Inspired by a story my uncle told me back in
1965. How grandfather once made moonshine and
missed out on his first date with grandmother.
Luckily she was a forgiving woman and grandfather
a very handsome man or else they'd never married
and I would not be here to sling tha' ink!
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014
It’s a question usually posed with an inquisitive frown
On an angelic face with large, limpid eyes
And whatever I’m doing, I stop and put down
Peer sagely over bifocals and look grandfatherly wise
“Can you fix this grampa,” shy tentative pleas
Red plastic toy held out in soft delicate fingers
Tear tracks on pink cheeks, scraped, dirt darkened knees
Touches deep to my heart, on child’s face my gaze lingers
Sad, liquid eyes under brows scrunched and worried
Timid, flowerlike smile slowly blossoms on small face
My broken toy examination, slow and unhurried
Parts and pieces put back together with exaggerated grace
Rose bud lower lip, bitten by tiny white teeth
With young brow furrowed with intense concentration
A wondrous thing, this childhood belief
Mouth morphs to O shape in amazed celebration
Grampa’s done it again, that ingenious ‘ol geezer
By fixing the toy has come through in the clutch
I’m arthritic, and smell funny and I’m a puffer and a wheezer
A pushover when she whispers, “gramps I love you so much”
A huge happy hug and a loud sloppy kiss
On grey bearded, prickly cheek
These things I’ll treasure and will too soon miss
When no longer ‘ol grampa they seek
Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2013
Nana told me once
how she and Pop-pop
went courting in a
How quaint I
thought, and was a
amazed how far we
humans have gone--
from a smelly
plodding horse to
an ocean in an
afternoon six miles
Then Grandma told me
she said they went
out in that carriage
to make love! Nana!
I gasped silently,
until I saw she
meant the words
my grandparents went
courting to make
the love that would
hold them together
years...and I am
because two young
people took long
buggy rides behind a
tired, smelly horse.
Copyright © len carber | Year Posted 2014
See problems they no worry Timothy
He was raised by his Great Grandmother
One day she taught him
Miho you can make life beautiful or ugly
Work hard, find a woman who has a strong back
Beauty fades it doesn’t last long
Now let me tell you
A woman with a strong back may not be your perfect companion
Times are changing, I think Faith is more important these days
I say okay Grandma, can I have the horachata now that you made me
No hush up! You can have it when I’m finished talking
Timothy come your poor Grandfather wanted you to have this
It is his Journal and I have never read out of it
She hands it to me
I am struck by it’s cover, it is brown and plain
Yet it spoke to me by it’s elegant style
These words were printed on the cover “Blanco Vendetta”
I was drawn and pulled in untill I was covered by the spell
The first page I open too it says “My first Mil Besos”
The Temptess that blew my heart away
I turn to page 33
It says “The story of an Apache Warrior”
There are no rules to an Apache Warrior when it comes to fighting
He says if you are my enemy I don’t care how but I’m gonna kill you
Page 41 is like a fist full of words thrown across the page
Barrio boxing, The protection of the Shield of Faith
Brokenhearted for my careless speech has left her heartbroken
Strengthened by Love “Amor”
Nourished by the sunshine in her hand
There is healing in its beams
Blessed by her presence Del Dios I am Greatful
I’m like Grandpa what did you say wrong
Then these words come to me
Give her your full attention when she speaks to you
Because the Heart of the Wise studies how to answer
So I close it and my finger brushes a bookmark
It’s the Last page
It says To: “Timothy my son who is as mighty as an army”
I Thank you for the Greatest Gift
For the Greatest Gifts are as small as your small hand that touched me
I plant these seeds and they will take root and grow because you are good ground
Timothy let me say That without you I would of never found my Faith in GOD
Listen for it is your Grandfather who is dead and speechless
Timothy you see the good in everything
And I know you will understand my words clearly
If a man gives you his word
Promise me not to plan your future on it
And if you give your word my son
Do everything in your Power to fulfill it
AND NEVER Promise more than you can deliver
For it is better to put out more than you promised
Everyman is considered unwise when he appears foolish
I wish I could give you some insight about women
But your Great Grandmother may help you better than I can
But never timothy, Never be quick to fall in Love
Or give your heart to a woman
Listen carefully to her words when she speaks to you
Cherish Her give her your full undue attention
Because the Heart of the Wise studies how to answer
Love your neighbors as yourself
And do not strive against another man
If he has done nothing wrong to offend you
AS much as it is possible live peacefully with all men
And it is okay for you to speak these things with your Great Grandmother
She is a very wise and God-fearing woman
Amor take the greatest care of her, I Love you Son
Timothy when the time comes to avenge my death
Hit harder then you ever have before
But not in a Duel son, not like an open Vendetta
Marry his daughter Maria
The one who is pretty and Two years younger than you
Oh! He will suffer greatly!
And it will kill him to know that I chose this way to repay him
And remember son to be ready to fight any man at the drop of a hat
Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2012