In World War Two, a man named Edward stood,
Through battles fierce, he fought for all that's good.
A hero's heart beneath that rugged guise,
A life of hard work, a heartfelt prize.
On railroad tracks, his days were well-defined,
A worker strong, with purpose intertwined.
Through sweat and toil, he forged a steadfast way,
Each tie and rail a part of his display.
To some, he may have seemed a distant soul,
But those who knew him, saw the heart's true role.
A tough exterior, a gentle core,
In Edward's love, we found ourselves once more.
With family gathered 'round on weekend morns,
He'd rise with love, and breakfast would be borne.
A loyal friend, through thick and through the thin,
His presence, like a warm embrace, pulled in.
But cigarettes, a vice that held him tight,
A habit dark, casting a shadowed light.
At seventy-two, a somber twist of fate,
Lung cancer came, sealing Edward's gate.
The world feels different, not quite as complete,
Without his laughter, stories, and heartbeat.
Yet in our hearts, his legacy remains,
A love that time nor distance ever stains.
Grandpa Edward, soldier, worker, friend,
Your spirit lingers, even at the end.
In memories, we find your love's sweet flame,
Forever cherished, though we speak your name.