I wish I could talk with my Grandfather again
Somewhere on a baseball field in Natick,
hoping my glove would once be as worn as his.
He told me to take life slow.
Somewhere on the coast of Maine,
skipping flattened stones at dawn-
He told me to listen to my father’s words.
Somewhere on a golf course in Rhode Island,
birdie or bogey he smiled.
He told me a bad day golfing is better than a good day working.
Somewhere at a dinner table in Ireland,
cracking jokes back and forth-
He told me to embrace times like these.
Somewhere at a backyard bbq
He told me the one thing you have to understand
is that you’ll never understand women.
Somewhere in my mind, we’re on the open sea
Rowing his weathered red boat, reeling in scup
and taking life slow.