Cheesy Grandpa

I dedicate this poem to my grandpa who passed away a few years ago. RIP grandpa <3

He was always making jokes,

The same cheesy jokes,

Sitting with his coffee cup,

Chuckling so his sagged neck jiggled slightly.

What do you call a cheese that isn’t yours?  Not-cho cheese!

People say the same jokes aren’t funny after a while,

But not for him,

Had he told it only an hour prior,

It would still make him laugh,

And seeing him laugh,

The world would laugh in return.

His face was rigged with wrinkles of past smiles,

Which were etched into his cheeks and eyes.

He was the first I knew to go,

But he is never truly gone,

I still remember those cheesy jokes,

The cheesy jokes he always told.