I have a little tale to tell
About my afternoon.
And if I leave the path of truth
I’ll find my way back soon.
But I was drinking prune juice;
My grandpa had come by.
We always sit and drink our juice
While staring at the sky.
And grandpa’s never shy;
Ideas will strike his brain.
Then with care and detail too
He’ll patiently explain.
He said, “Let’s catch a train.
We’ll take a little trip.
You and I, we’ll hit the shore
And then we’ll rent a ship.”
“Then we’ll sip our lemonade
And sail the ocean blue.
We’ll surf, and boogey-board with sharks,
Plus, search for treasure too.”
“Who knows what we might find?
I’ll know we’ll catch a tan.
How’s that sound my buddy boy?”
I told him, “That’s a plan.”
Standing up, I said, “Let’s go.”
My grandpa stayed in place.
Our talk had put him fast asleep.
A smile was on his face.
… I wrote that poem thinking about him. I loved him a lot.
My grandpa used to visit from Florida when I was a kid. Coming up to Michigan one winter he knew what to bring. He brought an empty coffee can and had it labeled, “Florida Sunshine.” He said you could only open the can for a split-second or all the sunshine would escape. To us kids, it was like some kind of magical container.