frail fingers fondled my daughter’s mop head prior to falling limp and lifeless hanging over hospital rails

passing on

releasing the touch of generations before, a push for resolute goals we shared in times of triumph when flags were raised

i can remember the way you tried to make me feel famous with homemade videos and designer jeans i couldn’t squeeze into, sugar and butter combinations continually streamed through your home

a mint rolling in your mouth, as drool slid down a double rolled chin, whiskers catching sunlight, i questioned your sin

was it leaving grandpa?

now, you’ve left us

not a single choice, yet you chose to live that way, running scared and strong, defensive with a will to belong

she’ll remember that touch

the stories i recreate

you’ve become the myth you always sought