Granddaddy cared for his
pocket watch
A gift it was…
a treasure.
The long gold chain
held it secure
and the time he would
lovingly measure.
He often took it
for cleaning…
in the shop
they knew his name.
It was there that
he fell and breathed his last
no one was to blame.
Now that watch has been passed down
the story to be told
of Granddaddy’s love
for his lovely watch
and time after time…
isn’t old.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a fine, sensitive effort. Your Grand Daddy lives again in your warm memories of him. Kind regards, Sandra Fowler