Ode to my grandfather

Don’t open your heart

Any further.

The spring will snap off

And you’ll never get the door shut again.

How can you still crank yourself

When your gears are so worn

The teeth are too blunt to bite

And your studs are shuddering loose?

How can you be so punctual?

How do you march so persistently

through each station your day

against the erosion of the hour

And yet take a second for each of us?

You know your purpose

Like you’ve read your own manual

And you do it with such joy

That the monotonous rhythm

               Becomes bombastic


                                                            and brisk.

When you chime in

our days make a little more sense.

We would have not known the joy

nor the structure of our lives

without your honest guidance.

But please


Mind your gears

Don’t force your crown

And know that time also belongs to you.

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