September 15, 2003

• For Papaw French
  June 13, 1901 - June 10, 1998

  Pop-rocks
  Pet squirrels
  Bible stories
  And thunderstorms
  Blowing bubbles
  And whistling...
  These are all
  Things I learned about
  From you
  Riding my first bike
  For the first time
  On your back patio...
  The little blue bike
  You and my mother
  Picked out
  Just for me.
  Mind twister puzzles
  Glow in the dark toys
  And stick on tattoos
  From the cereal boxes
  You would buy
  For no other purpose
  Than to have a surprise
  Waiting on the TV
  The next time a grandchild
  Walked through the door.
  Stories of Mamaw
  And your little girl
  Picking four leaf clovers
  In the front yard...
  I found these years later,
  In your little girl's scrapbook...
  That little girl
  Now being my grandmother.
  Sunflowers in the back yard
  Even taller than the seven year old
  Who was completely in awe of them
  Rows of corn and carrots
  And rhubarb pie
  Summer at the picnic table
  Eating the biggest watermelons
  I have ever seen...
  You and your little girl,
  And her little girl,
  And her little girl... me.

  Somehow we miss it
  How quickly the years slip away
  As new lives and new families
  Take us different ways

  But all I had to do
  Was close my eyes
  And I was seven years old again...
  Eating pop-rocks,
  Blowing bubbles,
  Riding my bike
  And whistling Buttons and Bows.

  As we have all always said,
  You will live forever...

  In our memories
  And in our hearts.

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