Grandpa Cookie Knees
In this life,
Grandpa Cookie Knees gets out of that worn brown chair.
Grandpa Cookie Knees gets out of that worn brown chair.
He holds a pencil,
and throws out those cumbersome blue pens
the size of celery stalks.
the size of celery stalks.
He has no need for the pulley system in the kitchen
where Grammie bathes him,
where Grammie bathes him,
or the wooden ramps
my curls bounced down when I was five.
my curls bounced down when I was five.
In this life, he and Dad race motorcycles
along Mountain Road,
along Mountain Road,
he comes down South,
and maybe drums a little at my wedding.
In this life, his 1968 banana yellow Buick Skylark
is never mine,
is never mine,
because he’s behind the wheel.
It doesn’t sit in the garage for twenty years.
There is no football injury, no back pain,
no slip of the surgeon’s hand.
In this life,
the man who couldn’t feel
my five year old fingers rub the Oreo cream
on his worn, useless knees,
my five year old fingers rub the Oreo cream
on his worn, useless knees,
doesn’t laugh at the child who doesn't know
it really isn’t funny.
it really isn’t funny.
No, in this life, he gets up out of that worn brown chair.
KGS
http://www.sagetribe02.com
So evocative. Makes me want to know more, and more....
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Love this beautiful depiction of a pain-free, fully-lived life for Grandpa Cookie Knees.
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