The tears tickle down my face
tickle like my grandfather
and me shouting
Stop! Stop!
while smiling and laughing
and then, when he does as I asked,
I shout
Again! Again!
And down his fingers come,
tickling my sides and belly happily.

But these tears are not happy
Not smiling.
And not laughing.
Their tickling is not my grandfather.
Not a childhood memory,
But pain
New, current pain
that I've never felt before.
I wish it away, hoping for my Grandfather's fingers
but they never come
to take the pain away.

And it is then I realize.
I am not happy
Not smiling
Not laughing
And my grandfather may never come.