As the poet said, 'Only God can make a tree' -- probably because it's so hard to figure out how to get the bark on. - Woody Allen

I still can't

I still can’t see your picture without crying, Probably never will. My grandson gone, Too damn soon. I don’t care what went on behind your closed doors, You’re my grandson gone, Too soon. Dear God did I miss a day of protection prayers for my grandson’s life as he went everywhere, or did we not teach him to beware of the vultures and thieves at his back, or jealous friends the worse haters, they bop pass with a smile and a phrase “you my mans, then dap your hand with a half slick gaze. The streets are what they always been, The grim teacher of relevant lessons, with no creative tools just deadly weapons. Students full of lead following fantasies of the dead to be legends, in their own head. They’re really thieves that steal the dreamers, steal from our own race and leave us all grieving. Days, months and years will pass but just the other day I heard you say I love you Poppy always. My grandson, my love Gone too soon. 1999-2017



© shelco21206
2017-05-15

3 Comments

You have to be a registered user to be
able to post comments to poetry.

Register Today!


If you already have an account, log in to post a comment.





Please be patient while we go looking for comments...