It would seem we had little in common,

myself and the grizzled old man.

There was always the family resemblance-

He was, after all, old Granddad.

He had served time in the army

but seldom would say what he saw.

(His buddies who died where the heroes,

They didn’t come back from the war.)

We would go walk his dog in the park.

He would hear out my childish concerns.

He taught me about love of family.

That Love, he said, always returns.

Baseball was our common passion.

We’d root for the Mets, then despair.

At least he had seen them be champions,

For me they had yet to get there.

A single rose dropped on his casket

Is a scant thanks for the years that we shared.

You were there for me from my life’s beginning;

The first best friend I ever had.