| |
"Many, many years ago,
Or was it just last week?"
(Granddad started out this way,
When he began to speak.)
Telling of the many things
That happened in the past,
He'd fill our heads with memories,
And hoped that they would last.
He always rode a bicycle,
He never drove a car,
But he would travel anywhere,
That wasn't very far.
He had the whitest, thickest hair,
That you have ever seen,
And he was such a gentle man,
I'd never seen him mean.
And every week on Sunday morn,
He'd ride with us to church,
He loved the Lord with all his heart,
His Name he'd not besmirch.
And when he testified in church,
He'd give it in a song,
He'd sing about the love of God,
I knew his faith was strong.
In some ways I am just like him,
In this I do not lie,
For we were both quite musical,
We also loved our pie.
Now Granddad's gone to Heaven, and
In that there's no dispute,
And when he died he left me with
His hymnbook and his flute.
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work from Poetry
|
|