060323

Days of Times Past

The shadow of my grandfather,
long dead in New York City,
moved across the floor
as the sun moved, widdershins,
it stretched out long arms to me,
and I was no longer sure
it was really my grandfather.
"Henry?" I whispered,
so as not to frighten it,
I took the pipe off the shelf
and offered it to him,
it had belonged to my other grandfather,
but it wasn't smoking
that had killed either one of them.
I hoped that I would wake up then,
but the shadow simply withdrew,
as the sun went down.