Grandpa

In the hills of West Virginia, at a log house he called home,
Is where grandpa spent so many years, though other places he did roam.
He was a country man at heart, and seemed a man before his time.
He would study books for hours, yet no mountain he can't climb.

He'd been a farmer, and coal miner, and a secret service agent too.
He loved his bible and his garden, never once did he seem blue.
Open-minded, and religious, he had views that few could see;
And even though i was a youngster, he would spend much time with me.

He was old, and wise, and feeble. Saw much life before he died.
When i heard that he had passed away, i just hung my head and cried.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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