Poems — grandpa poem

He, who was a perennial kid,
found joy in everything he did.
He, in whom youth was alive,
trusted his heart, not asking why.

He never judged any wrongs,
and raised his ash brows at know-it-alls.

And I remember, I knew him well.
He went through war, he survived hell!

Yet, when he rode his motorbike,
his smiley eyes cheered all alike,
and at the road bends he used to shout
his mighty roar:

“THE SUN IS OUT!!!”

© Copyright Beata Dagiel