Remembering Granddaddy

Maybe it's his memory most,
Moored inside my heart;
Or maybe just the falling leaves,
That makes the feelings start.

Remembering Christmas dinners,
Those we came to see,
And love so thick inside that house,
Was Ma and Granddaddy's.

Remembering two words: 'The Lake'
Visions of the sea,
A summertime seasons wonder world,
He built it just for me.

Remembering all the things he built,
Ceilings, floors and walls.
How well each labor echoes here:
He has built them all.

But maybe it's his children most,
Four pillars standing tall,
Who echo his reflections here:
He has built them all.

by Sandra Osborne

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