Grandpa's Cigar Box

Mon, 02/01/2016 - 14:39 -- jmates

It was grandpa’s old cigar box

with my name inked on it in green

When opening that rusty latch

A flush of grandpa released;

 

Cigar smoke

Democrats spirit that he would mock and sneer at

A wry smile

An ukulele strumming “Moon River”

And that magic he’d puff

Gave us more than enough

of those cynical winks

and his honeycharmed kinks

 

Open that cigar box

if nostalgia runs by

Open that cigar box

with lovelorn sighs

Open that cigar box

if April vows die

I want my cigar box.

 

Old friends heart’s fill with malice

Leaving your trust a jaded callus

White picket fence pressures mount

Full moons never amount

That cigar box is under your bed

covered with whims and things unsaid

But kismet wants to reminisce,

when showing you the things you missed

 

I opened my cigar box

when nostalgia ran dry

I opened my cigar box

with lovelorn sighs

I opened my cigar box

My April vows died

I needed my cigar box

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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