Grandpa

It was a quiet and bleak September.
I know that you remember.
How the featherdust of burst pillows
Rubbed gently on the frosty window.
We would pillow fight like best friends
until the day would end;

and you were grandpa again.

We were children then.
Though you were many years my senior.
And though the times have passed and the pictures fade.
Your memory still lingers.
I remember that you seemed like a twin
Until your large hands grabbed my tiny fingers
and I grew afraid because they were so thin.

and you were grandpa again.


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William H Ward, Jr.