A Jaunty Not My - Grandfather Of 'Bolases'.... Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

the grandfather is unusually funny,
when he is telling about old times...
he recalls his youth tearfully
and to date, are dreaming for him
sandwiches wrapped up in breakfast paper...

all young grandmothers, which he imagined,
ran in the meadow in colour towels,
between nearby bushes, when the sun
of the colour orange, lighted firmly
tanning the skin, and he pulled,

not only from the bottle, but heated himself, with
cigarettes of the brand 'sport... around the court'.
the grandfather is unusually funny, when he
is closing one eye, and with the face 'the dodger'
he recalls stories, about conquests thought up

his love on the meadow, amongst grass...
when stretched out on the spread
coat and excited by warm the sun's rays,
he was humming the familiar song
' hi, hi, hi falcons.... '

for the grandfather to date today
humming stayed.
but with voice high
and thinner
or... humming...