Grandpa's Dime
 

I was only twelve years old, when my grandpa passed away
I can remember before he left, the things he had to say
He told be just a fews days before, he was running out of time
then he reached into the night stand, and handed me a dime

I remember when he told me, this dime I give to you
but sit down, let me tell you, what this dime and I went through
Walking down the road one day, on the curb there it lay
I've carried it in my pocket, till this very day

This dime I've felt for years, was my good luck charm
keeping me safe, keeping me from harm
I rubbed the dime, when I was scared the day that I wed
I rubbed it in the Army, when the days I dread

I made a wish upon this dime, each time I felt the fear
it's helped me throughout the years, I never shed a tear
Amid the face of danger, back in World War Two
I felt the power of this dime, and felt it all so true

Now the years have long since gone, grandpa laid to rest
this dime I feel the power, as I lay to rest
Looking at the silver, thinking through the years
asking to myself, has it taken away my fears
 

Dave W Hartman

Copyright ©2002 Dave W Hartman