An Apology To My Grandpa

Poem By Paul Michael

An Apology To My Grandpa

What is in a name?
I often contemplate.
Would I be the same,
With a different name plate?

My parents did the best,
When they assembled these letters.
In hopes this moniker,
Would make my life better.

I guess I never appreciated the effort,
My name has always been forgotten.
A jumble of letters easily dismissed,
Left out, dried up, spoiled, and rotten!

If there is an apology,
That needs to be said.
I'll directed not to my parents,
But my grandpa instead.

He carried it as an heirloom,
For generations to come.
When the time was finally right,
He passed it down to his sons.

Although I know it may not be prestigious,
And it may not be littered with fame,
I now find myself longing,
To pass down my name.

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