He's lying in bed paralyzed
It's made me all so fragilized
White walls, blue box, and twisted head
On the silver hospital bed
He says no words, just garbled sounds
His jowls shake like a basset hound's
He points to what he wants
On the little paper, nothing to flaunt
Images, memories, all they do is haunt
What do you think of when you lie
In bed, when your only future is to die?
While life races by, a baby is born
Without a grandfather, will the child be forlorn?
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
He's lying in bed paralyzed
It's made me all so fragilized
White walls, blue box, and twisted head
On the silver hospital bed
He says no words, just garbled sounds
His jowls shake like a basset hound's
He points to what he wants
On the little paper, nothing to flaunt
Images, memories, all they do is haunt
What do you think of when you lie
In bed, when your only future is to die?
While life races by, a baby is born
Without a grandfather, will the child be forlorn?
Granpapa by Geneviève Pardoe Macchiarella is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
