Grandpa

"Grandpa"

Once I walked my Grandfather's land.
I remember that I was very, very little.
Awoke one morning to a smell so grand,
The scent of bacon frying on the grittle.

He was cooking an old time breakfast.
Said it would stick to my skinny ribs;
As a breakfast chef, he was the best!
Told me tall tales, some of them fibs;

He told me once that we were Indians.
Then I asked him what tribe we were?
He said,"The Last of The Mohicans!"
Within me, he'd created quite a stir!

We went out to take our long walk.
Then he turned to start his old tractor.
We'll ride up the log road and talk.
Climbing the steep hill wasn't a factor.

Up on top where the woods spread out;
We stopped and with his pipe in hand,
He then told me how it all came about!
The saga of how he bought this land.

It was during The Great Depression,
Walked miles to pay fifty cents a week.
The hardship told in his expression!
In long ago memories, silent and deep;

Now I can appreciate the sweat and toil!
The problems that he struggled through,
He had lived through times of turmoil;
Stayed strong and honest, tried and true!

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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