My Grandfather Poem by Eric Cockrell

my grandfather drowned
while fishing...
i was only fourteen,
i took the call.

in the whirl of
funeral arrangements,
preachers, headstones,
and old hymns...
too much was forgotten.

he gave me my first
pocket knife, showed me
how to sharpen it....

when i grew up
i sharpened knives
for all the women
in the neighborhood.

i can still remember
him taking me to the depot
to watch the train pass by....

when i see a train now
i sometimes wonder...
if he's on it, and coming
for me.....

a way of life gone...
maybe better in some ways....

my grandfather died while fishing....
the fish won the battle
that night!