My Grandpa

My Grandpa

in black and white

hands in overall pockets,

rowdy hair

eighty years past.



Things we know of him

stay, become secure.

Heroic attributes worth

life changing

among a person



Once he passed came

sudden recollections of it all.

Fifteen year old memories

were as clear as

a recent winter visit



At goodbyes, anxious

to receive locked up

wonders-

He gave prizes from

his secret silver box



He’d reveal

George Washingtons

from his cash keeper

and reward to

young bulging eyes,



A vivid summer setting

outside his river home

plays repeatedly;

brief one on one

just Grandma and me.



Memories irremovable

on each grandchild's lane

His voice so clear

saying our names

All a keepsake.