When I bite into a tomato, the flavor explodes,
Reminding me of the ones Grandpa used to grow.
Big and red with taste so sweet,
And how much Grandpa loved to eat.
Sometimes he’d grow little ones to pop in your mouth,
They’d explode with juices all flowing south.
We’d toss them in the air and catch with no hands,
Sometimes with a slingshot and big rubber bands.
Grandpa made tomatoes so much fun,
And, there was always enough for everyone.
I learned to share from my grandfather’s joy,
By sharing tomatoes with each girl and boy.