There's a picture here, which my dad passed on to me,
It was of an old grandpa, whom I never got to see,
He looks so full of charm, and maybe a little stern in the face,
But over all, I think he may have been very full of grace.

He's all dressed up in his "Sunday" hat and has the kindest face,
Something draws me to him, maybe it's just the place,
Don't think I've ever seen it before, looks a little strange today,
We know things are ever changing, it just seems to be the way.

There was an old windmill down at the edge of the barn,
I guess that's where he worked, as he ground the wheat and corn,
Once I'm told, he flung his straw hat way up in the air,
Celebrating the birthing of a foal, as though without a care.

He seems so much the gentleman, must have been very nice,
Doting on my little grandma, I would have to surmise;
Had such genteel manners, I could tell by his loving eyes,
And I'm sure a wonderfully warm hearted soul and so very wise.

He loved going to the creek, water trickling down the stream,
I fancy going back in time to see him, which is just a silly dream,
Catch him fishing, or dressing a big old trout and I'd say
Hello grandpa and tell him, I came from far, far away.

He's from another century, in his day he never knew of me,
But I can see the resemblance in a child or two of mine you see;
The era seems so distinguished, it set my world apart,
This fine old gentleman isn't just my heritage, he's also of my heart.

Copyright © Pearlie Duncan Walker

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