Poem: Grandpapa’s Words

By: Robert A. Davies


I am sitting at the dinner table
eating a frozen yogurt
chewing away.

Suddenly I am 70 years back
sitting on the front porch
with my grandfather,
chewing on our ice milk
wooden spoons in hand.

It happens every time
I eat yogurt:
I have walked to Haller’s
for a dime gotten half pints,
and it is all delight
no need for words.

I am eating my yogurt
my wife, her ice cream.
To her the silence seems awkward
but I cannot find the words.

The last words I heard
before my grandfather died
were no words at all
but the slightest pressing of my hand.


Robert A. Davies has published in recent years largely online. He has been writing poems seriously since 1969. He has published Timber, Tracks in Oregon, Melons and Mendelssohn, and Bluff Hollow. He was co-editor of Mr. Cogito for about 20 years. He has recently appeared in Dissident Voice, Hollywood Progressive, Literary Yard and Windfall. rjdavies3@comcast.net


Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.