In the garden of his tales, I find solace,Where time bends and stories gently unfold,A voice like the rustle of autumn leaves,Guiding hearts through whispers of gold.
His eyes, deep wells of ancient dreams,Reflecting the dawn of forgotten days,With hands that cradle the world’s mysteries,And a laugh that chases shadows away.
Each wrinkle, a chapter in the book of life,Etched by years of wisdom and grace,He walks with the rhythm of the earth,In his presence, I find my place.
Beneath the stars, he shares the night,In every tale, a lesson to find,Grandfather, the keeper of time,In his stories, our spirits are intertwined.