And his daddy was his.
It is the way it should be
It is the way it is.
He is always there.
My granddaddy was special;
He was a short,
Thick, tree stump
And was a smutty brown
Like the soil in
His vegetable garden.
And he took me
and my friend fishing
and I hated the worms
but I showed him I could
do what he could do
even though I was a girl.
My granddaddy let me
drive his blue Malibu.
I was only fifteen.
I liked his house.
His back yard was
Woodsy and sunshiny,
with a black iron pot with
boiled squirrels
and chitins,
And I ate them
and I hated them,
choked on the smell
but I showed him I could
do what he could do
even though I was a girl.
My father is my hero
And his daddy was his.
It is the way it should be
It is the way it is.
He is always there.
My granddaddy
Let me hug him
With my little girl arms.
And he hugged me
Back.
And I loved him,
Until
He wanted me to
Be his flower,
And be a part of his
Special garden.
But I didn't,
He wanted it to
Be our secret,
But I couldn't
Even though I was a girl.
My daddy
heard my secret.
My daddy could slay dragons,
but his daddy was his hero.
He kept my secret
and said nothing more
I asked him years later
As a daughter woman
If he ever had ever thought
About it
And got angry about it. He looked at me and would not say anything.
Because he kept my secret
And said nothing more
His daddy was his hero,
And my father was mine,
It is the way it was
The mystery it remains
For all time.
Copyright © June 2008 by CC Gill. All rights reserved.
cee_duncan@hotmail.com
The Renaissance, The New Millennium, heroes, dragon slayers, anger, granddaddy, daddy, poetry
