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Poem For My Grandfather

Poem For My Grandfather

Poem By Michael Meyerhofer

My grandfather
touches my arm and
asks me
on this, the night
of his eighty-first birthday
to come outside
for awhile.

It is December, crisp and
cold and I wonder
if he should be out here
but he points to a space
between the house
and the barn

where a telescope
has been set up. Look,
he says and I do
but all I see
is a fuzzy red star. Aldebaran
he says, and smiles.

When he was young, just
a boy coming back
from corralling the horses
he waved his flashlight
at the sky and
tonight, that beam

is finally touching
a star. Aldebaran
he repeats, whispering
that name over and
over like music
into the stilled night air

then squeezing my arm,
he leans forward
until the fog of his breath
touches my lips
and asks: will you
write a poem about this?

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Comments (1)

Excellent work, Michael. Very touching and sincere. Warmest regards, CJ