In the twilight of the evening sun,
Grandpa’s tales would softly run,
Through fields of gold and battles won,
His wisdom shone, a gentle beacon.

His eyes, a portal to the past,
Where laughter and love would always last,
In every story, he would cast,
A spell of warmth, so unsurpassed.

With hands that toiled, yet always kind,
He taught me lessons, heart and mind,
In every wrinkle, I could find,
A legacy, so intertwined.

Though he’s now a distant star,
His love remains, never far,
In every memory, like a jar,
Grandpa’s spirit is my guiding star.