Grand-pa Walker

“Hello Grand-pa”, is what I use to say
 To the tall man with the hair of gray
 A gentle man whose voice he’d never raise
 Except on Sunday when the Lord he’d give praise
 Gray felt hat and bib overalls was every day dress
 Because neither one he needed to press
 With an old horse the fields he would plow
 When he had time he’d show me how
 He’d plant the crops and gather the hay
 There was never enough time in a day
 He’d milk the cow and chickens he’d feed
 Then out in the garden to pull more weeds
 At times he’d pick a plum or apple from the tree
 One for himself and one for me
 Then in the shade we’d stop for a break
 But just a few minutes is all he’d take
 It seems his work was never done
 And there wasn’t time to have some fun
 He relaxed at night when I played checkers with him
 And it would seem at times he’d let me win
 Yes, some things with grand-pa I can recall
 But being young I can’t remember them all
 Still in my mind he’ll always be
 And an image of him I’ll always see
 It seems that grand-pas are very proud men
 When they have their grandchildren visit with them
 Now time has passed and the years flew
 For now I’m the grand-pa to just a few
 Because I’ve gotten old and my hair is gray
 “Hello Grand-pa” is what I hear them say
 But I find time to have some fun
 With each of them while they are young
 I hope in their minds will be an image of me
 Of the grand-pa that I’ve tried to be

Shelby Wesley Lewis
   Jan.2009
   Las Cruces, NM


 
 
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