In Cheltenham's race, where the quick hooves play, My grandad cheered on through many a gray day. A daffodil bright 'midst the flowers he'd tend, Now blooms in his stead, a token to send. The market hums with whispers of time's passing, Carbon's cycle in life's intricate trappings. Balloons float skyward, each memory a thread, Linked to the turf where Bob's footsteps once tread. Though grandad has joined the eternal parade, His laughter in horse races never will fade.