Pappa my grandpappa strong and tall
Houser name worn proud integrity honor.
Pappa you grew watermelons right up to the creek
round ones for little ones to bust open and eat.
On the pond you made a boat square with barrels
to make it float, built rails to hold on as you poled grand-kids all about.
Two sons , two daughters fighting hating for what you had
You use to shout "My God I am not even dead "
Gramee Houser died no one to shame them ..to hold the peace.
my papaa they say you took a pistol out to the granary
and ended your life that night...
just that morning
had taken off my Sabbath shoes made a toady hole
in the sand pile made for us.
as you explained I would never have gramee Houser again
but as long as God allowed I would have you....



He was one of a kind also 


Made me miss my grandparents even more than most days 
You write wonderful people poems. 



19 old applause
