Wednesday, March 29, 2006


digitally-altered photo - S. Auberle


for my grandpa

He never said much, this quiet man
and even less, after his stroke.
I don't remember any talks between us,
me on his knee or cuddled in his lap.
He called me, in German, some
long name that meant little sausage
even when I grew taller than him.
But oh, there was love.
I saw it in his eyes. I saw it when
he saved me the ripest peaches,
I felt it in his rough hands
guiding me over rocky paths
those summer days of fishing, and
hunting morels in the spring woods.
I saw it in his face the night he left this earth,
so quietly, just as he had lived,
all his unspoken words lighting the way,
shining like those new pennies he would wrap
in my hands when I cried.
Sometimes, for some people, it may be
that love is too large to fit into words.
Watch for these people. If you're lucky
enough to find one your life
will be immeasurably blessed.

- mimi


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