Thursday, April 26, 2018

                  by Ralph Fletcher

I remember Grandpa.
He’d get up early with me,
made me “alien pancakes”
that were yeah you guessed it
out-of-this-world delicious.

I remember Grandpa.
We were always outside.
He took me to the pond
when the first peepers
erupted in early spring.

I remember Grandpa.
He concocted wild tales.
          His true stories were great
          and his fake stories  
          even better.

          I remember Grandpa.
          He taught me how to sew ties
          before we’d go trout fishing:

If you make ‘em right  
they’ll last forever

like my memories of Grandpa.

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