Grandpa’s Poem

A river doesn’t seem like much

Maybe a stream, a babble, a brook

A trickle of water

But as time passes,

a river begins to surge

and tear into the earth

leaving its mark on the world

A river becomes a stampede,

powering through every bank, turn and delta

And inspires us

Those accomplishments create a canyon

Rivers dry up.

But in their place, train tracks can be laid

And as you sit on that train

And look out that window

All you see is the grandness of the canyon

The lush green of the trees that the river fostered

And you cannot describe that chasm

You cannot fathom the words to explain the impact the river had.

How that river created such an eternal scar in the land

in our hearts

But with every cut is a mountain

Forever standing tall for us

And forever looking down at that little train puffing its way through the valley.

And that train chugs and persists to make that mountain proud.

Grandpa is my mountain.