Grandpa's hands, weathered and wise,
write a poem about gradpa
randpa's hands, weathered and wise,
Tell stories of days beneath endless skies.
They’ve built and held, they’ve worked and played,
Through every season, every shade.
His laugh, a rumble, deep and warm,
A shelter safe through every storm.
His eyes, they twinkle with secrets untold,
Of adventures lived and dreams of old.
He speaks of times when life was slow,
Of fields he’d plow and rivers that flow.
His voice, a melody, soft and clear,
A song of love that I hold dear.
In his chair by the fire, he sits so still,
Yet his presence fills the room, it always will.
With every tale, with every grin,
He plants a seed of strength within.
Oh, Grandpa, your love, a timeless tree,
Rooted deep, it shelters me.
Through every year, through every span,
I’m grateful for you, my guiding man.
So here’s to you, with heart and pride,
A legacy of love you’ll always provide.
In every memory, in every plan,
I’ll forever cherish my dear Grandpa’s hands.
《The Armchair's Whisper》
Moonlight spills over the cane's creases
Where your weight once settled
Into a nest of warmth
Tobacco's ghost lingers
In the still air
Your sweater hangs behind the door
Faded and soft
Its pockets cradle
Half-told tales
And a forgotten peppermint
I count the clock's steady breath
Each tick echoes your chuckle
Fading into forever
While the armchair cradles
The shadow of your presence
In its woven embrace
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Write a poem for gandpa
《Grandpa's Pocket Watch》
Your pocket watch ticks on
Though its chain now rests
In my trembling palm
Time circles back
To your stories by the hearth
Your hands, rough as oak bark
Cradled mine when I stumbled
Teaching the dance of
Sowing seeds and reaping dreams
In life's unyielding soil
Evenings smelled of pipe smoke
And wisdom, as you unraveled
The constellations' secrets
Your voice a compass
In my youthful storms
Now your chair sits empty
But the pendulum swings on
Carrying your laughter
In its timeless rhythm
Through the years I walk alone
