Fourth of July

On By Piano girl

I decided to revisit a poem I wrote several years ago. Made a few changes, but the story remains the same. It just felt like the right one to share this year.

Grandpa

Grandpa worked hard
his entire life.
He married young.
He and Grandma
raised nine kids
in the country.

Strong and stubborn,
but loved to laugh.
Mellowed over time.
Without a doubt,
dealt with struggles
I never knew.

I can see him
wearing overalls
after a long day.
Promising to dance
at my wedding, if
I’d fetch what he needed.

Liked to argue.
Loved his family.
He was always ready to
welcome them home.
Looking forward to a
Family gathering that very day.

But in the morning,
while everyone slept,
He woke early.
Put the coffee on.
Then sat down in
his favorite chair.

At the young age of sixty-seven,
Grandpa died.
It was the Fourth of July.

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