Cara E. Ellison, When Granpa Was Younger</head><body><center><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.com/p1.gif border=0 alt=Saviodsilva></center><hr color=3C00FF size=4><br><font size=4 face=arial><b><a href=151.htm>Cara E. Ellison</a></b></font><br><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.net/poem/a/1.JPG border=0 alt=Poem></center><br><font size=3 face=arial><b>When Granpa Was Younger</a></b></font></center><blockquote><blockquote><p align=left><font face=arial size=2><b>Here is the poem that I wrote for my 80 year-old father:<br>Do you have a granpa? Michael asked inquisitively to his playmateseated beside him in the sandbox. Of course, I have a granpa, Neal replied matter of factly. Everyone has a granpa! Not me, Michael sighed sadly. My granpa is in heaven. Well, Neal conjured after a moments thought, My granpa is very very old...and he can't play with me or anything. He mostly just sits in his chair and doesn't say very much. Neal continued... My mommy says that granpa used to be a big strong man, but he had a stroke, and that made him old. What else does your mommy say about your granpa?, Michael asked, thinking that he did not want a stroke to come and make him old. Neal spoke, as if in deep thought... Whenever my mommy is in the kitchen washing dishes, she tells me lots of stories about granpa....<br>When granpa was younger, <br> my mommy would say, <br> He'd sit high on his tractor<br> most all of the day, <br> In the fields he would plant <br> corn and sugar cane, <br> peas and potatoes <br> hominy and grain. <br> Sometimes he would climb<br> to the top of a tree, <br> to pick peaches and pears,<br> and even apples for me. <br> Down he would jump <br> all the way from the top, <br> and land on his feet <br> with a great big plop. <br> He had a big boat, <br> which was silvery-gray; <br> down the creek he would row <br> every Saturday...<br> With a bucket of worms <br> and a fishing pole, <br> He'd look here and there <br> for the best fishing hole. <br> In the sawmill he would toil <br> late into the night, <br> making old-fashioned bread trays<br> with all of his might. <br> And when he was finished,<br> he would give them away<br> to family and friends <br> who passed by that day. <br> In the Post Office he also worked<br> sorting the mail, <br> for thirty long years, <br> without fail. <br> And when I would visit, <br>He'd let me come in <br>and sit at his desk <br> to play pretend. <br> Now granpa is older, <br>my mommy would say sadly<br>He walks with a cane,<br>because his leg is hurt badly.<br>And when he talks,<br>his voice sounds slurred,<br>so sometimes he sits<br>without saying a word.<br>His arm is in a sling<br>because he had a bad stroke<br>so remember when you see him,<br>his arm is not broke.<br>Now, everything he does,<br>he does with one hand --- <br>like tying his shoe<br>or washing a pan.<br>He doesn't climb trees<br>or go fishing anymore,<br>or work in the sawmill,<br>like he did before.<br>He sits in his chair<br>and watches T.V.,<br>or goes for a walk,<br>and looks up at the trees.<br>I know you would like<br>for him to play ball<br>but you see, he cannot,<br>because he might fall.<br>Although, if you'd ask,<br>I'm sure that he would<br>tell you a story<br>about his boyhood.<br>And even though your grandpa<br>is very, very old,<br>little boys and girls<br>he still loves to hold.<br>So the next time you see him,<br>please don't be scared, <br>just climb up on his lap<br>and show him that you care.</b></font></p></blockquote></blockquote><hr color=0000ca size=3><center><font size=2 face=arial><b><a href=http://www.isavo.net/poem/sk2.htm>This Poem's Index Page 1</a><br><a href=http://www.yensa.net/poem/sk2.htm>This Poem's Index 2</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com/poems.htm>Poetry Website</a><br><a href=http://www.saviodsilva.com>Saviodsilva</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com>Isavo Site</a></b></font></center><SCRIPT LANGUAGE=JavaScript SRC=http://www.saviodsilva.org/r/fantasy.js></SCRIPT></body></html>