Summer those days was always a bummer
I would sit by the door with Grandpa
We would talk about grandma
Who made the worst pasta
But we never told her
For fear of no dinner
And no to never hurt her
She would pamper us with care
And take care of everyone's fears
Now I can't think of her without shedding a tear
As death drew too near
We lost her without warning
And yes there was a great mourning
For no more of her calling
Love sick or somewhat my Grandpa became
For he could no longer walk without a cane
And Most times he wouldn't hear his name
Real our Nightmares became
For death finally came
Tears and relief in our hearts
For we felt it was good In most part
As he hated where he was at.
Grandpa
Grandma
Pasta
Yes kids used to call it a bummer.
Guess what, I miss those summers