.. This should be read with "About the Poems" since the two of them are about the same thing.

I wrote this in my english class the day after I read my grandfather's poems, the alien feelings were still swirling about my heart.

I can't really describe this poem more without repeating my Vignette "about the poems" since, like it's name may suggest, is about the poems this is about.

I will however, put one of my grand father's poems here, since I feel to truely understand this poem, and "about the poems" one must at least see a bit of the man I met that day last year. This is one of those poems that felt had been written just for me by the way, the real reason behind it's writing is unknowm now, yet I feel that no longer matters.

so here is a poem from the bed:


Sit in some quiet place, and think,
And remeber
It is only now that one close to you knows
That they know you, but can never really.
No one but you can feel your life.
We can only judge from our own the
Feeling of looking back.

There is little we can do to
Dedicate this day,
Except tell you to sit down and
Remember.
Only you can know them.

We share a common hope and bond of feeling,
May it bring you happiness in thought.