Note: This post is an oldie-but-goodie. It is the poem I wrote when my grandfather, whose sweater inspired this whole thing, passed away. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, click here. Art at the bottom by Luke Flowers, who is a gentleman and a scholar.
One, two, three punches to the stomach and a jab to the face…the weight of life and of death seems a bit heavy today.
“Keep praying for me boy.” “I sure will.”
“Give Jesus a hug for me.” “I sure will.”
Get this man some scotch! He’s done his job. First drink in five years. Maybe it can subdue some of these tears…Maybe not…but he’ll be dancing.
Sit next to you on the couch, lean if you need to. Clench that fist and sing the song and ride the crescendo.
“It’s hard to hit the high notes.” “You have to have the right attitude when you go about it.” “I love you.” “I sure love you too.”
Send in the clowns. Now let’s go see the birds.
He’s dancing.
White on White 