my pen doesn't write anymore it stumbles and trembles in my hand. If my grandfather were here he would understand ,best of all I'd be able to see him again.But they turned off the fire hydrants locked green leaves away,sprinkled ashes on you and sent you on your way.I wouldn't mind the early autumn if you come home today.I'd tell you how much i miss you and I know i'd be okay.Mama isn'tlaughing now she works hard and she cries, she wondres when true laughter will relieve her and her sighs, Even when she's smiling her eyes don't smile along.her face is growing older but she does'nt seem as strong.It's funyy how we never know exactly how our life will go. It's funny how a dream can fade within the break of a day.I'm not sure where you are now, though i see you in my reams my mother used to say the things we see aren't as often as they seem.So often i'm uncertain if you found a new home, and when i'm uncertain i usually write a poem. time can't erase memory, and time can't bring you home,My grandfather was apart of me and now that part is gone.