Tired and worn
from history’s abuse
More often than not
in the way
The ugly
faded
green-checked gold
From far away
looks dingy
gray
The eyesore
that it’s come to be
With every move,
sheds random parts
Like memories
slowly fading
in time
From slipping minds,
but not from hearts
It stands a memorial,
solemnly holding
The feelings
and thoughts
we can’t
lose
Although it’s decrepit
and falling apart
Its dismissal
we couldn’t
excuse
Unworthy,
this piece
becomes something of
home
Keeping his stories
from life
and from war
Softly comforting,
familiar,
and warm
Memories
of the man with love
gone before
2 comments:
Valentine's Day is coming and it marks a manufactured holiday that is used to promote commercialism and false illusions of love and romance. It also marks the anniversary of the passing of a great man, a man who belongs to me only through marriage, and yet, I claim as my last grandfather. He died several years ago now, but his chair remains in my home. I hate the chair and frequently beg my husband to let us get rid of it... but it's recently become the place I sit. 'Twas inspiring enough to write a poem. Hope you get just a brief glimpse at the man who was the TRUE inspiration for this poem. I can never do him justice. We miss you, Grandpa.
This is beautiful and touching. I love the way you express the attachment of memories and sentimental value to something that's other wise worthless and even ugly. ~hugs~
Post a Comment