HAPPY BIRTHDAY, My Beloved

1945 dash 2005

These were our years, every one wonderful.
Even the declining years.

PAPA
I remember when you walked
In autumn
Across the mountains,
Alongside the streams that seep
Out of the rocks where one hill cleaves
To another,
Your silver hair tangled in the clouds you
Were bigger than mountains.

Even then, muffled by our shuffles through
The painted autumn ruffles on the ground
The sound of your blood was
A hammer
Welding wings
On the anvil of your soul
I do not mean that you were old
Or you were dying then
But that your spirit knew of
Flying then long before your feet ever
Left the ground.

I hope I paid enough respect
To your trains in the basement.
I think I was properly awed by the careful details of
Your creation
But perhaps I should have
Paid more attention
To the ways you made
Electricity
Because your spark is still keeping the lamps lit
In our hearts.

Once you drove me to the farm in your truck
And even though it was just the two of us
You let me sit in those funny little -girl sized seats in the back
But eventually I had to crawl forward to investigate
The emergency candy in the glove compartment.
I ate it
With grave seriousness
Then we sang along to radio songs
{Though neither of us knew the words so we both made up
baselines: bum-bum, bum-bum,bum-bum..}

I'll miss you throned under the gilded tree
With your Queen
Surrounded by mountains
Of gifts like
Father Christmas
But like Father Christmas
Omniscient you are ever-present and benevolent
And I believe in you.

Thank you for your presents,

by

Kate Croft

(granddaughter)