December lungs shatter by the blow of a bitter morning,
and while I’ve never understood mourning,
I’m not happy you’ve gone.

                        Pipe tobacco
                        War stories
                        Stern kindness
                        Fresh scrambled eggs
                        Read-along cassette books
                        Railroad walks at dusk

            I don’t remember much,
            but what I do…

                        I’ll hold close to my heart
                        until you meet your grandson again.