PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My grandfather backyard is where all dreams come true. His dreams, our dreams, everyone dreams. He worked in there every day; with the wood, the plants, everything you could imagine. He had all type of trees; of peaches, plums, oranges, and grapes. He spent big part of his life in that place; he enjoyed the mornings, the evenings and the nights. His grandchildren played for hours in that place; they made mud cakes, played with the ants, made fights with fake swords, made little buildings with the wood pieces he didn’t use and they imagined all type of fantastic stories. In there, many events were celebrated, like birthdays and casual dinners. Every time I went to my grandparent’s house I went directly to the backyard, and he always was there, waiting for you with a big smile. He liked that place, it was quiet and calm, the birds sang and the warm of the sun made it a very comfortable place to be. It just was a loudly place when my cousins went to play and have fun in the afternoons. When that happened, he joined them in all their adventures. He had his workshop at the back, every morning after breakfast he went there and continued with his projects. It was his passion, his reason to wake up. He worked very hard until every piece was finished. If I asked, he could pass the whole day explaining me his task. He made all type of furniture and picture frames. It was his hobby, he didn’t ask money for what he did, he enjoyed it and it was his favorite pastime. His works were the perfect gifts and all made with dedication and love. Many memories were developed in that place, sometimes good and sometimes bad. It was the perfect place to go and have an adventure when I was young; it had secret places to discover every time. The shadow of the trees, the smell of the earth, the smell of the flowers and the sound of the wind helped to make this place complete. It was his pride; it reflected all his hard work that he had achieved through the years and if he couldn’t go out, he was not complete. It was the perfect playground, the perfect workspace; it was the perfect place.