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Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Grandpa
 

I missed the morning strolls we could have taken
to put the sun on my face and warm my body
after a cold dark night

I missed the warm caresses of your strong arms
assuring me that I shall be protected
from harm in a chaotic world

I missed hearing your tales of gallantry,
of horses and knights, of Indians and cowboys
and their endless battles, of soldiers
with fierce guns aiming
fire at the bad guys,
or how you taunted and defied
the Japanese during the war

I missed going to the lake on a boat
with you, putting a bait on the hook,
casting the line and catching a big fish
that mom would have turned
into a very fine dish

I missed the times you could have taken me
to school toting my bag, my lunch box
containing rice and meat marinated in soy sauce,
garlic and vinegar,
holding my hand
as we crossed

To me,
you shall always be a name
on a tombstone
where we put
flowers and candles
on your birthday
or any holidays
like the 1st of November
and be contented with the stories
shared by papa growing up
under your care.

rolly

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