Grandpa, 1943

I thought my friends would be glad
to see the red wooden wagon,
with the thick wheels,
that Grandpa had made for me—
so I took to the sidewalk
and waited, and waited.

Later I found out
what they thought:
How could I ever be seen
with a thing
as clunky as that.
Black Suit, White Shirt, Bow Tie

Already Grandpa had built the house
before they married.
And now at seventy-five
he was ensconced there
in a cream-colored leather armchair
with spittoon beside,
surrounded by friends
who were eager to come,
sit with him
and talk.

     The Farm

Grandpa's windmill with the long tail
rattled above us on steel stilts
while we sat on the bottom rail
around the tap with the bent nail
that water gushed from
into a rusty cup he handed us
to slake our thirst with
while he watched.
Collected Poems 10

The Grandpa Poems

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