“Papa”

What can I say, his “Papa” died?

At a loss for words, my tongue is tied.

We’ve all been there, I try to say,

My poor attempt to pave his way.

“Papa” for him was Grandpa for me,

We all have/had them you must agree.

Stern or sweet he stood his ground,

He was such a treat to be around.

The smell of Old Spice on a shaven cheek,

Sittin’ on the porch or by the creek.

He always had the time to talk a spell,

Story after story were his to tell.

He taught you to fish or fix a flat,

How to tie a tie or swing a bat.

He sat with you with your favorite doll,

Or drove you down to the local mall.

Gramps is gone, his time is through,

Where the time went, I wish I knew.

I love you Gramps, I sorely miss you,

Rest in peace, I won’t forget you,

--Ken Ferguson—

Artista di Parole