I wake to his whistling
On the couch in the den
His mug full of black coffee
Now empty, he'll get up to fill it again

My grandfather is constant
He has never walked out on me
He has taught me that nonsense
Lies within the person who flees

I have watched him slow with age
His bones have grown weak and frail
I know that he sheds tears offstage
When he looks back on the trials of his tale

My grandfather is water
He flows and ebbs, traveling from place to place
But he has had three otters
To keep him company... just in case

He is a constant imperfect man
Who loves motorcycles and sweets
He's too laid-back to have a plan
But shows up early when we meet

I lie awake and I know he does the same
Staring at the ceiling is one thing we share in common
Sleep has always been like a waiting game
He wishes he could close his eyes more often

My grandfather is constant water
He is changeless and tranquil
I am certain that his love has made me stronger
Even when it appears to be casual