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.