Everyday I pass by the twin arcade
Everyday I pass by the twin store

But I never perceived the old man
with his blue turban ,
with his credential,
with his assign attire,
checking the folio of every passerby

But instantaneously,
my eyes seize the eyes of the old man
but he gyrate around

He was white as the winter snowfall,
He was cute as my Grandpa,
He smiled with torment,
He looked with keen eyes,

     But I wondered why?

In this hazy cloudy cover
where the old man is waged
I evoke the days of my mother barking to wake me up,
but her utter ampthy of beholding me dormancy,
let me took off from my phronthistery
did someone showed the same affection to the old man

I awe why he was working at this senility?
I awe where was his progeny?
I awe did they left him?
I awe was he alone?
  
             I desire to blather with him and ask him to be my Grandpa

But the old man was overshadowed
with my beau tight embrace
and I left the arcade
but in a hankering to meet you again Grandpa