By ten, I tended vast fields of dreams
with schemes of becoming someone, the
details of which were vague, but grand.
My grand pa lived a mile away, a mile
stocked with old memories and new
ones budding into bloom as I found my
way to his book filled rooms. Grandpa
knew my fields, too, and with gentle,
helpful hands, joined me ln irrigating
them with the spectacular fun of
learning and yearning for books that
took me to other lands with other boys
like him with Grandpas of their own,
but different.

Your grandpa would be proud of you and your poetry, Glen! It prompted me to think of many special times with my Grands. Thank you :)
I wish your grandpa could read this moving and playful tribute, he'd love it and honor your quirky, brilliant, unique poetic voice xoxoox