Posted by Shikha Mathur on 2011-07-30
My grandfather is very old
But he is precious than gold
He does his work all day long
Humming a wonderful song
He is very smart And gives me whatever I want
He teaches me history And he can solve any mystery
He is very humble And doesnt grumble
He does all that he can And he is a very good man.
I'll tell you a bit of my grandpa.
I think he's a thousand years old.
He must keep his hands in the freezer;
I've never felt ice cubes that cold.
The hair growing off of his earlobes
is more than the hair on his head.
His eyes are all baggy and bloodshot.
His nose is the same shade of red.
His voice is like rickety floorboards.
It crackles and groans when he speaks.
Whenever he bends down to hug me
it sounds like his skeleton creaks.
He says that his memory is failing.
He thinks that he's losing his mind.
He's always misplacing his glasses;
without them he's legally blind.
My mom says his hearing is normal.
I kind of believe her, but then
whenever I tell him "I love you,"
he asks me to say it again.