Grandpa, a poem by Gerry S. Wojtowicz at Spilwords.com
David Becker

Grandpa

Grandpa

written by: Gerry S. Wojtowicz

 

Can you hear the wind blow?,
whirling, whining, wrapped in snow,
blinding, blistering, battering frosted glass,
tickling the flames of melting wax;
snapping the line that ran from the privy to the kitchen door,
it isn’t there any more.
Near where it was you can hear a cast bell ring,
signaling that Grandpa’s body won’t be found until spring.

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