I waited for my granddad to walk home from the bus stop.
It was very dark out, but I had my Girl Scout jackknife in my pocket.
He worked in a machine shop somewhere in South Boston.
His hands were so calloused from checking for stray burrs,
he had no feeling in his fingertips.
And he took my hand and told me how to oil my knife and keep it sharp.
My granddad waited for me to walk out in the garden after doing supper dishes.
The whippoorwills had started and it was getting cool out.
He showed me marigolds planted to keep the bugs away and extra lettuce, for the rabbits.
And he took my hand and told me the varieties of corn, peas, and squash.
I walk alone among the falling leaves to see the place he's lying.
This day is much too peaceful, this sky is much too sunny for how I feel.
There should be rain.
He would have liked these roses.
I used to pick the wild ones to put out on his nightstand.
And I wish he'd take my hand and tell me what to do.
(c) 1992
Lynn Cohen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-waited-for-my-granddad/
