1 August 2012
The days when he was sane, When he rocked in his chair. The musty smell of cigars, Before he was put in care.
Now he still rocks, Just without a normal mind. The chair swings back, forth, His eyes no longer kind.
When he looks at me, He's wild, not my grandpa. He just sit there and rocks. Rocks in his rocking chair.
Rocking In His Chair • Opuss № I