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Someone's Grandfather |
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(this is for you, Granddaddy) |
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Someone's Grandfather sits woodenly |
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totem still, but for fluttering hands. |
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His memories are getting harder to grasp |
| like grains of wind blown sand. |
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Someone's Grandfather sits in forever silence |
| staring off into space. |
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Trapped in the nothingness |
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that is reflected on his face. |
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Still, someone's Granddaughter comes to visit |
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And every now and then |
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perceives a spark of brief recognition |
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when she asks, "Granddad, remember when...?" |
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Someone's Grandfather is loved. |
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Someone's Granddaughter has not forgotten. |
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Poetry by: JoAnn McEntire Jackson |
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copyright JoAnn McEntire Jackson 2001, 2002 |
| There Go I... |
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Mumbling to herself |
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she sits on sad streets. |
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Everything she owns |
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lays bagged at her feet. |
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There go I, but for the blessing |
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of friends and family, |
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who would see that I was fed |
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and had a roof to shelter me. |
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There go I, but for God's good grace, |
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in the same ill fitting shoes. |
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Unkempt and unsheltered |
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with little left to lose. |
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Poetry by: JoAnn McEntire Jackson |
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copyright JoAnn McEntire Jackson 2001, 2002 |
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These candles burn in memory of Christine - my niece, my sister, my best friend. Rest in the arms of angels Chris, you will live in my heart forever. |
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