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His hair is grey
And vision is blurred
His spends his day
In bed, one-third.
He taught me to read,
And told me to lead.
He taught me to write,
And told me to fight.
Evening's he spent
Saying his prayer.
He hates to depend
Loves his arm chair.
Night's he spent
Telling us tales
About the places he went
With all the details.
A child's first teacher
Is it's mother
But my first teacher
Is my grandfather.
His hair is grey
And vision is blurred
His smile never fades
He's my world.
(04.12.20)
REFORMATION
Holding on tightly to mamma's finger,
Our first fear was getting lost in the crowd
Then we grew up,
Held many other hands and let go of some
Slowly we saw our fear change
From getting lost to feeling lost amidst a crowd.
As a kid, we woke up in the middle of the night,
And then didn't go back to sleep
Thinking there might be demons under our bed
But as an adult,
it's harder to get any sleep
Because demons moved from under our beds to inside our heads.
(18.11.20)