Oh grandfather, where have you gone?

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  • Childhood

    Oh grandfather, where have you gone?

    Who's That Man
    Who is that man who's will was once so strong......who is that that man who seems so far gone....
    That man is who I looked up to as a child.....he hasn’t been himself in quite a while.
    I fight back the tears....as I can see the old age and the years...on his face.....I can tell he wants to leave this place.
    Photographs tell the story of our past......memories of what used to be....will forever last....
    H's older now.....somewhat  colder now....but he still everything I wish I could be......he was the foundation of our family.
    He's fighting for his life day by day........he can't get the pain to just go away.
    I can't count how many lessons from him I've learned.....he once said....if you play with fire you'll get burned.
    Looking back over the years...I wish I could of been with him more.....because when I see him I become so sore.
    His voice alone... makes me cry.....the hardest part is when we have to say goodbye.
    I never wanna hang up the phone....because I know he's there all alone....he just needs a hug and a familiar face.....to help him find heaven in this hell like place.
    He thinks he's let us all down......he wishes that he could still be around....
    To see my brothers become young men.......I'd give anything to grow up again.
    Just so I could sit on his lap.....and here him clap......at my little league games......because now he can barely remember our names.
    This old man who once stood tall.....has slowly begun to fall.
    I'd do anything to see him the way he once was......but time catches us just like it always does.
    It's hard to see how weak somebody can get......the love he showed me...I will never forget.
    At some times he was stern.....his respect I had to earn....but it was all worth the while....because I will never forget his smile.
    When he says that he's proud of me....and all I've done.....that makes me proud to be...... his grandson...........
     


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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    The1NobodyKnows’s Poems (13)

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