A freckle on my Grandpa's nose,
was prominent, but I suppose
it did not bother him in life.
Though Grandma, who had been his wife
for fifty years in splendic health
she took the freckle with his wealth.
One day, their son, a smart physician
had come to go, with Grandpa, fishing.
He glanced upon his father's nose
where still the freckle thing arose.
And gave his learned diagnosis
'A Seborrheic Keratosis.'
No need was seen for intervention
and they decided not to mention
the stigma in my Grandpa's face.
Well, life went on, its hurried pace
eventually caught up with him,
at first his vision went to dim
and then, while telling a good joke
he suffered a tremendous stroke.
He wore his suit, with silken vest
went off to take his final rest.
I watched as our pastor prayed
and how the giant oak tree swayed.
Then Grandma handed him a rose
as I was staring at his nose.
Original subject matter: freckle. Beautiful narrative and enchanting music. Susie.
We always remember something about those closest to us.Excellent poem from a true wordsmith. Sid John.
Darn those barnacles on the skin... A nice tribute, we always remember something unique about our grandparents.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'While telling a joke/' Not a bad way to go. Out here in the Western US it is also known as 'going with your boots on.' Living right up until you die seems preferable to a long struggle as I tried to describe in 'Assisted Living' and 'Looking for Encouragement In ICU.' Tom