United States

Grandpa George

Itasca County Cemetary

Plot CA2724


When the seasons’ change,

It starts off slow, you enjoy it.

Then it speeds by, turning into

Something else. But what?


Remember when I was little,

My fragile hand in your rough?

A handmade scrapbook made

By me, fall leaves collected

By you. Show and tell presented

By the two of us.


My little legs running to catch

Up to your longer.

My tiny nose bright red, my

Cheeks stained by the cold.


Your amused voice asking

Which type of leaves I

Wanted. “Pretty ones.” was

My reply. You laughed, I

Smiled. We were happy.

My favorite memory.


Next chapter.


Needles, holes, blood,

Heart monitors, nurses.

Your chapped lips, the lights

From your eyes were gone.


No longer did you laugh,

No longer did we smile.

Your body was failing you,

Just like the cold failed

The earth around us.

I wasn’t allowed to see you.


Grandpa, you liked trains,

Didn’t you? You liked how

They were in constant motion.

Why couldn’t you keep going?


Like the train, I wish you

Never stopped. I wish

That your breaks took ages.

I wish that your body didn’t crash.

I wish your heart was a train engine.

I wish your light never went out.


Your granddaughter,



This poem is about: 
My family


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