All His Worldly Possessions
My grandfather is going to the hospital.
His worldly possessions are all in a paper poke.
I watch him walk to his old beat-up Ford,
Knowing he won't ever be coming back home.
Funny, but now when I think of him -
And of everything he's ever been -
Forgotten by me are those last words he spoke,
Replaced by memories of his brown paper poke.
© 1998 Linda G. Macri