It was a cloudy day, my grandson pointed at the sky. He said ' the stars are still there you just cannot see them because of the clouds'.
I held his hand and said ' The stars are like the truth often we cannot see it because of the clouds'.
There is nothing more inspiring than a conversation between a grandfather and a grandson.
When you were born, I cried with joy.
My scrawny little boy.
When you took your first october fall.
I picked you up and brushed off a leaf from your forehead.
You did not cry, we picked up a maple seed and spun in the air instead.
Watching it twirl like a copter to the the ground, we danced around and around.
I held you to my chest and felt your laughter and soon the winter came after.
Many years have past and I still remember, October to December.
The leaves were changing and so were we, so have we.
Our little walks, our little talks will be with me forever.
Though spring and summer are finer weather.
I will always remember the Autumn-the colors, the fall,
and you most of all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem