11 January 2013
Your slow pace, To my quick two, Entering the hospital race, But there is nothing to do.
A couple of days, So the doctors say, But grandad, Don't be bad.
On my last visit, Your behaviour was about the ring you bit, And all the complaints, Like the soup tasted a dull faint.
But now your back there, Losing your mind, your hair, Get well soon grandad, If your health returns i'll be glad
Another Trip • Opuss № I