grandfather

There is a large man you remember from childhood.

He sat you on his knee and you asked him questions.

A lot of questions.

He answered them all as best he could and you knew he really liked you.

A lot.

He didn't live in your house, so you didn't see him every day.

He didn't even live in your town, so you didn't see him often.

But you looked forward to seeing him again.

A lot.

You got older and you discovered that the man could tell you stories.

A lot of stories.

You continued to ask questions about the stories.

He continued to answer your questions.

A lot of questions.

You loved the big man who talked to you.

He hadn't heard all of your stories yet.

So you told him.

A lot of stories.

And he asked you questions about your stories.

And you were glad to tell him because he liked you and your stories.

And he loved you.

And you loved him.

A lot.

Author's Note

found in my closet - written at least 12 years ago

Reviews

[DanaRegen]

nice poem it brings the friendly touch of my grandparents back into my heart and thoughts.

[Legion]

Good ode to your grandfather and those memories. Kudos.