Sixty Seven

A poem written for my grandfather's 67th Birthday.

Sixty Seven

Where creativity blossoms and courage confides

Is a man with no limits, his praise to the sky

Teaching while learning is humilities core

If his name wasn’t rich

Than he’s no more than poor

But far from the case is a journey through wealth

& The fruits of his labor have defended his health

A family tree that’s grown down the coast

He sits at the table deserving a toast

No brush could create the art that is his

For he makes his own answers

When stuck on the quiz

The questions of life

That most look to cheat

He’s worked to be honest

The will of a fleet

No man could compare

& No blood is as pure

As a man who’s made faith

His mission for more

Never blinded by sin

& Never quitting his search

There is nothing to hinder

His quest on this earth

If miles were tokens

That measured his strength

Than no engine could last

For a ride of that length

When the day & time comes,

I’ll meet you in heaven

But for now..

I am grateful you’re just Sixty Seven.

Love PJC3.