Papa

His picture sits among my books

some of which for me he bought.

Down from the shelf he smiles, looks

with his eyes still full of thought.

The sudden loss of a man of steel

a grandpa so strong, so kind

Never has time felt so real

so suddenly certain in my mind.

Before, his days never seemed numbered

And so, neither did my own.

That naive belief has been cumbered,

I feel the beating beneath my collarbone.

The birds still fly, the winds still blow

He is gone, but I am not.

I will live the days he didn't get to know

Even if I feel I have a lot.

I know that he would wipe my tears

and ask that I go on bravely.

To continue on his unfinished years

with a light, and never gravely.

His picture sits among my books,

Some of which for me he bought.

I get up for him, for down he looks

and says, "She lives what I taught."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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