By Jim Gandolf
He fought the Bulge, a winter's icy dread,
A war-torn youth, on courage he was fed.
He came back home, a hero, strong and whole,
With life and values etched into his soul.
On weekends, high above the world we'd fly,
The engine's roar a song against the sky.
His steady hands, a pilot's quiet grace,
A shared adventure, leaving time and space.
He watched me play beneath the Friday night,
A constant presence, shining ever bright.
Through wins and losses, he was always there,
A silent cheer, a love beyond compare.
Then came the day he met my little boy,
A passing glance, a final, fragile joy.
His tired eyes, a wisdom deep and vast,
A legacy of love designed to last.
The ring I wear, a circle of his might,
A piece of history, bathed in fading light.
But more than gold, or stories left to tell,
The values live, and in my heart they dwell.
Grandpa Gandolf
With Love from
Jim Gandolf
©️08042025
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