My Grandfather


United States
33° 8' 48.4404" N, 117° 0' 31.6368" W

His skin looks old, brown, and wrinkled; scarred by the Mexican Sun;
His wrinkles are a chronicle of his life-long Wisdom.
His hands are rough to the touch; toughened by years of toil on the Fields;
Breaking his back for the people he Loved.
His aroma is reflective of his love for Tobacco; A cigarette between his fingers for 75 years.
A habit perhaps, but it is part of who he is.
His voice is croaky, dusty, but sweet: Always uttering words of Wisdom or Legendary Stories.
When he speaks all should listen;
He is an ancient Library whose contents should be Preserved and Remembered.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741