Grandpa Paxman

I just found this poem on my pillow. My oldest daughter wrote it for her English class. It is so beautiful, it took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes.

It reads

Grandpa Paxman

Mom tells me the stories he told,
From when she was young and when he was old.
She remembers his soft thick grey hair,
And his voice, calm with care.
She remembers his rough dirty helping hands,
His stories were like the ones of other lands,
She remembers not an angry or mad expression on his face,
He never ever got on her case.
Those stories she tells me,
Give me an image of him for me to see.