Grandpa’s Road

With a gust greater than Grandpa,
limbs break off and leaves litter
the roads. Lane after lane of obstacles.
I have no idea which way to go.
The sobbing rain screams of life’s loss.
She wears love’s black veil of death,
dwells in seedy harbor bars,
serves Hurricanes in grave size drinks.
Which storm will I swim in?
Grandpa died of a wind-swept heart.
He never understood why she left
a damper on what should have been Pop’s best.
He spent grief’s last days traveling home
and often spoke of how, “The road is a poem.”

 

(Image Credit: http://www.deadlystorms.com/damage2.htm)

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s