His name was "Grandpa",
Crowns on his fingers,
Long live criminal,
Thief in law.
Will he recognize me now,
More then twenty five years later,
Kind of overweight and tired,
Working mother..
He would be about one hundred
And I am not little girl any more.
My grandmother's special friend.
Can't have family, can't get married,
He was loving all beautiful women,
Once in a while stopping by.
With us he stayed for a year,
Reading newspapers and watching TV in the kitchen.
When I was moody,
He would look at me through glasses and ask,
What's wrong with you?
I would laugh and say, nothing.
If someone else was around,
He would ask them,
What's wrong with her?
I think I never was moody much after that.
Now, like memories from that year,
I hear he say, what's wrong with you.
And I smile to those years back.
Every week different people were bringing him food.
Autumn, spring, winter,
Fresh cucumbers, green onion and tomato, and can food.
He showed me world, I didn't hear..
