Grandpa smiles and grandpa tells
Me stories of how it was.
I listen while his wrinkled hands
Gently caress mine.
His blue eyes twinkle, my brown eyes widen
As he tells me about this man-the African American in Vietnam.
Grandpa laughs his silly laugh and says
“I was his only friend.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem