Pop-Pop

Pop-Pop

 

Pop-Pop, you taught me to be a man

since my own father was a child like me.

 

If you were back, I'd ask no favors,

other than you give me your time for free.

 

To hear you hum again and smell those menthol smoke rings

you'd blow with such Dutch glee

 

Now your store's closed, Pop,

no more work for you to get to.

 

Let's go find that damn trout

that always seemed to outsmart you.

 

You'll fish and I'll just watch, silently

 

 

 

Michael Griffith


Michael A. Griffith teaches and lives near Princeton, NJ. His poems, essays, and flash fiction appears online and in-print in such places as Nostalgia Digest, Ariel Chart, The Blue Nib, Teaching for Success, Poetry Super Highway, and Spillwords. His first chapbook will be released this fall from The Blue Nib.