Gramps fixed mowers with steady hands,
In fields where grass forever stands.
His laughter rang with each repair,
A craftsman's touch, a heart so fair.
Now in heaven, tools set aside,
He watches over, with a gentle pride.
Among the stars, he finds his rest,
In endless peace, where he is blessed.
Though mowers stand in quiet rows,
His love through every memory flows.
Gramps in heaven, smiling bright,
Guides us still with his enduring light.
©techr3xxx
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