I’ll never forget the dance of lilac blossoms,
Tossed in a warm spring breeze.
Their scent kissing me behind each ear,
As I stood before a wide open world.
With eyes squinted I saw as fields of alfalfa,
And lines of swaying poplars blurred together.
This moment bares an imprint upon my heart,
As I watched you walk up in paint spattered overalls.
My legs stunted by youth and innocence,
Pumped in double time to match your stride.
One large hand engulfed my own,
As I hugged myself close to your side.
You smelled of dried cedar wood and paint,
With your gentle voice and peaceful silence.
We walked beside the waving hedge,
Peaking between purple blossoms to find trilling birds.
I wished to be at your side always,
Hearing every story your eyes twinkled to tell.
How can you ever know Grandfather Poplar,
What your actions wrought within my young heart.
Frank kindness and a listening ear,
Was the song written into your very soul.
Author’s note: Hello dear readers! I’ve been absent as of late, trying to survive an ending of another school year! (My poor students.) I hope spring or fall, or whichever season you are in, finds you well. I’m not sure where this poem fits in to your life, but I do hope it gets you thinking of those chosen few individuals in your life that have made a difference. How often do we have a chance to say thank you, and never do? I wish you well upon your path.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.