Poem For My Gandfather

Old Man

I will admit that I have not done you enough honor

My tributes have fallen short

You stood tall and proud once

You manned a gun and fought men in planes, bent on your destruction

You worked your whole life

You laughed and fought and toiled

You loved and raged and cried

You had adventures, great and terrible

And you battled times of crushing boredom and sameness

I did not hear you apologize for who you were

You have been more of a man than I can hope to be

I wonder about you, now

Do you look for old faces and find them gone?

Is there pain in knowing you are among the last of your kind –

                A generation dwindling to nothing?

Is it an ache in your bones, low and dull and constant?

Or is it the sharp hot sting, the punch of a gunshot?

Or do you look to your Creator with anticipation?

Do you wait impatiently for His call, as for an old friend

                Long overdue?

Your breed is dying

It cannot be replaced

I honor you now, old man

I am only sorry I waited this long.