TO GRANDAD

TO GRANDAD.

When i think of you
your always writing
sitting in your big old oak chair scribbling away.
right up until the day.

Your silver fringe falls over your right
chocolate eye,
your glasses resting on your crossed
legs.
your shoes torn at the soles.

you loved those shoes.

"he was a great writer"
i remember the priest saying at your funeral.
as if he knew,
that made me so mad.
i felt your anger.

so,
well done with your life grandad.
you did great.
And im proud to be your grand-daughter.