Drunk Grandpa - Poem by Possawat Piankij
Never have I met my grandpa,
Only knowing of his story.
My granny said "he was a skunk
Being always very drunk.
Moreover, his death was of shame
And he deserved to be blamed.
He drank, walking along a lake
Then, he fell into the lake"
But, I wonder where he is now.
Perhaps, he is one of those clouds,
Roaming around above the sea line
And saying "this boy is mine"
- One Whistle -
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