I remember Papa…
Warm Sunday afternoons,
Watching baseball on TV,
Me watching him.
Window full of sun,
Dust dancing on air,
Vin Scully’s voice droning on,
“It’s a beautiful day here at
Dodger Stadium…”
The game plays on.
I remember Pap’s lap…
Warm, Wide,
Safe at homeplate!
Yawning, I drift into the voice
and the sun,
Sleeping in the safety I feel there.
Waking on the sofa,
Sweaty, thumb in my mouth,
Pillow wet with drool,
Papa, did we win?
He was always there at waking.
Sun slanting lower in the window,
I remember Papa
On warm Sunday afternoons.
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My grandfather meant the world to me. He was always Papa to me. This is my tribute poem to him, he was a serious baseball fan. This poem is based on many memories of him.
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