Through my teary eyes I see my childhood. I see my grampa , sitting at that table waiting for the next train to come through and he has to put the gate down..I see him peeking out the side window with his pipe in his mouth waving me to me as I run down the tracks to visit or bring his lunch to him.
He usually had a few magazines to read or the radio on. But his was always as happy to see me as I was to see him..sometimes I beat him in a game of checkers,but it was more about spending time together..this Old Shack is more then broken boards and missing paint..
No comments:
Post a Comment