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~~~~~~~~

my phone informs me
your turn to turn,
one year old

my iPad delivers me a photo,
goodness of a creme cupcake,
all over your face

I see sprinkles,
blessed Joseph-coated-multi-colored sprinkles,
blessings sprinkled upon
on the visage,
of my child of my child,
my grandson.

sorry,
it feels so good,
gotta say it like you,
one, one, one
(shush! I can too count!)

like you,
one
mo' time,
my grandson...

someday you may stumble
on the Internet reservoir, this histoire,
where memories never disappear,
from somebody's server and
my this,
my creme word decorating,
adorning this little mini-cupcake of
just ours.

if you walk the streets of
my city of poems,
you will find a poem prayer,
I once uttered,
after turning down an invitation
from the East River to join its
swift currents carrying away hard strife,
to the Atlantic Ocean graveyard.

three words denied the seductress
the toll she was charging that day,

smart kid you guessed it,

my future grandchildren.

there will be days when the crush
will prove too much, I know it's coming,
no use denying that all my blessings
sprinkled cannot preempt
your heartbreak and soul ache.

but I will write these words,
and sprinkle them upon your forehead
when no one, especially those parents,
are looking,
thus protecting you from yourself,
too oft,
a human's greatest enemy.

if I can not grasp your hand,
let my words gasp you into understanding,
that in the future someday,
you will say just like your old poppy,
my future grandchildren,
and

stay thy hand from the worst temptation

t'is of man's nature, the ability to forget,
different ways of foreseeing better days....
so to see the future's betterment turning your way,
just say,

my future grandchildren