if he were still alive,
still here, plodding on,
he would have celebrated (?)
his birthday yesterday: 109;
in a few minutes,
I will make that familiar drive,
to visit his grave,
to remember him,
to ask him again,
"what was the question?"

too many questions, Grampa,
too many to count,
and too many that were
never even hinted at,
never even discussed
in polite company;

and saddest of all,
after all these years
of plodding, just like you did,
that I not only don't know
many of the answers,
but I worry that I haven't
learned many of the questions

Happy Birthday.

May 31, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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