|Kelly & Grandpa. Summer 2010.|
He ate his steak,
drank his coffee,
drove his trucks,
and loved his family.
On “Missour-ah” trips with Grandma
they would visit me in Springfield.
He’d wear his boots,
feed me steak,
we’d share a cup of coffee,
and I always knew he loved me by the way he’d insist on checking everything on my car.
And always there. That was my Grandpa.
Just like his boots.