Grandpa - 1999

by

Wilma Hoofard

Well it’s been three years to the date since you died.
If you only knew how I hurt for you and all the tears I have cried.

On this day the memories of your death become all so clear.
All we went through in the hospital and now your just not here.

The day will come when your sprit will be set free.
The only bad thing is when that happens it means death for me.

I have been promised we would be taken to our place.
The Indian Trail of Tears the name of it puts a smile upon my face.

I promised you a poem every year and today you’re sure on my mind.
For some reason this year the words to write are so hard to find.

As I sit here and try to remember you’re face, touch and your smell.
Like the past three years I want to go out and drunk as hell.

The pain I felt that day three years ago is still here as you can see.
I write these poems just to tell you how much you still mean to me.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at APELO
by: Ivone Boechat
from: Niterói, RJ, Brazil

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