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A FARMER                                                 Is this the poem that you are after ?

He reminded me of one of his
scarecrows in his field of lonely
crops that went as far as the eye
could see. All around Grandpa was the
sounds of waves made by a breeze
causing the tall sun colored grass to
form a sea of waves around him.
Grandfather smelled of a mixture of
dry grass, sweat, and Old Spice. On
top of his head was a moth eaten
straw hat with snow colored hair
sticking out here and there. On
each side of his oval face was black
button eyes that were always wide
open like a wise, dependable owl. The
bright star above his head had darken
his skin reminding me of leather. In
his left hand he always held one of
the most important fruit crops. A bite
missing out of the ruby red fruit. The
juice always dipped down his chin
like a river. His bumpy pink tongue
reached out getting every drop.