He was gone before I could meet him

Still, I knew him

The pictures hung on the wall

Lonely.

The scenic views he saw

His passion apparent in every stroke

Charcol smeared and painted

The mountains came to life.

Father of my grandfather,

The landscapes were old

Untouched

By skyscrapers and towers

Unfinished sketches

But finished thoughts

I picked up my pen

And began.