brim fingers and dried calsus with hands that
have held small quaint children
plucked a weed or two with a heart that has hugged each person
with a smile or maybe even honked the horn to say " Hello"
Whistles ringing sweet music to the ear
shucking corn till sweat of brow
sneaking candy to grand children but never lets his
sweet tooth fade because each smile is worth showing
Wow. I really like this poem, April. :) Must be a special grandfather you've got.
ReplyDeleteThank you Caleb! He really is special! I love him alot! :)
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