Snuggled and cosy
Wrapped and warm,
I lay with my Granddads bed cloth
All worn and torn.
A scent of grass
From his life career
He was brave
Not even death did he fear.
Seventy three years and two quick months
Quick was his journey through life
Not ever did he stop once.
I remember his voice,
The horse shoe tattooed on his wrist,
I'd like to think dying was never on his list.
-27.02.12-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem