Pépère who sinks in his deep armchair,
and is my father's father
who is cookouts and Easter egg hunts
who is Scrabble and encyclopedias
whose face is soft as sandpaper
is always there for us
who tells me to be myself
who gives me secret winks and smiles
whose hands are calloused and worn
can't come out today
stays by Meet the Press as we walk in
who has purple string laced on his skin
is tired
is a veteran now retired
has seven and twenty and fourteen great,
cannot anymore stand straight
is waving as I leave the driveway
who hugs me warm each time I return
is ice cream and shakes and chocolate
who shuffles left cane right and left cane right
is the Friday night meatballs cooking
closest to my heart
who will always be with me.
