Grandfather

astronaut — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 03:59:56 +0000

It’s been over a year now since my grandfather passed away. A few weeks ago, I sat down to do some songwriting and immediately thought of Papa. These lines came fairly quickly and I haven’t worked with them too much since. They don’t really work as song lyrics…yet. I suppose it’s more of a free-verse poem, but the third stanza was originally intended to be a chorus. I’m hesitant to post it, because it needs a lot of work. But, I guess you have to put yourself out there some time.

My grandfather died.

(He wore) blue jeans and flannel soiled with the fur of a best friend
who knew how to say good-bye
better than anyone.

He was the richest,
an ancient with hobbled knees and rolled trousers.
His interstate skin riddled with potholes
in need of paving.

Your rocking boat still in the backyard
collecting weeds.
All my love, absent words.
Your boat still in the backyard.

One day I’m you,
One day I’m watertight.