|“It was impossible.”|
First line provided by speakeasy #101 winner Suzanne Purkis
what he was tinkering with.
Also out of the question
for my prying gaze to turn.
Curious, puzzled, brown eyes
watched patiently, captivated.
His bright blue eyes smiling
as he seen me examining him.
At 5 years old, fascinated
with his rough hands, calloused.
Knowing my grandma, cooking,
would scold him for the language
rambling from his mouth
for my young ears to hear.
Steady, my grandpa held tools,
occupying my heart as well.
Feeling of shedding Sunday dresses,
for play clothes, play tools or sticks.
Years would go by, his stories
retained my attention, my awe.
A teenager peered at him working,
laughing when he cussed the work.
Homecoming dresses slung in a closet,
to throw on a tank top, blue jeans,
run bare foot to the backyard,
just to inquire why his building
full of tools and beer cans,
was where he chose to spend his time.
It was impossible to guess
just how much time I had left with him.
@ donetta sifford 3-27-2013