The yellow, and oranges, pinks, and red, shimmered
off rocky canyons into the cool rushing water.
And the bluest of sky penetrated its perfection,
making it the most stunning spectacle in nature.
I would almost go as far as to say, that it might
have been created by the hand of God himself.
It is in these waters that grandpa was at his happiest,
and the place where as a kid I was taught to fish.
Such memories I do recall along these banks of the river,
laughter, cursing, the stories of the one that got away.
But I prefer to remember his infectious smile, and warming grace,
and I think of him often, fishing free in this heavenly place.
In memory of Warren Eugene Cleaver
1/4/23 - 9/25/88
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
Amazing when they say a picture is worth a thousand words...and your poem captured your Grandpa perfectly...best to you in the contest ~blessings always~ Trisha
