For my Grandad.

If you ever jumped into the back of a cab
and the driver was charming, with the gift of the gab.
If he was the smartest dressed driver that you’ve ever had,
you jumped in a cab with my Grandad.
His Italian was fluent from his time in the war,
we’d listen to his stories, though we’d heard them before.
From travelling the world, to taking dance bands on tour,
now I just wish I could listen some more.
He’d wrap us up warm to go out in the cold,
and make our friends laugh at the jokes that he told.
Chase our bikes through the park, though he was too old,
he’d buy us ice cream, give a hand we could hold.
I know he’ll be there when I walk down the aisle,
Like he’s always been there since I was a child.
Cigars, whisky, snooker and snoozing a while.

But what I’ll remember most is his smile.

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