What I Must Pass Down

I have only lived a short time in this life but I have my woes,
for I walk upstairs in my grandparent’s house and it shows.
The walls are some how darker then they were before,
in days back when my grand dad would tickle me and I would scream no more.
The kitchen is darker and the smells don’t give my mind rest,
the day I burn my Grandmothers pot, it was her best.
She shrugged it off like it was no big deal,
she just motioned to me to go to the pantry and get the dill.
I remember waking up to the smell of fresh bread abound,
and jumping out of my bed tracking it down like a hound.
Some butter and cinnamon and I was ready to go,
ahh such a life it seems like a long lost show.
I am in my twenties and I understand why they have passed,
but the memories they gave me would always last.
Their boxes are out the door and my family did what they must,
I am sure my mother held their requests trues this I trust.
I feel alone now and no one to tell this tale,
although as I speak I remember my grand dad speaking of a bigger scale.
My time is short I know I will have to go,
but don’t let our passing be a constant woe.
You will grow old and share your life with your young,
and you will share our lessons and sing the songs we sung.
This is the way we will always be by your side,
and through those memories and lessons will be your guide.
A tear came to my eyes and I knew what I had to do,
for my son and daughter this is the story I must pass to you.

Written By
Robert Niswander
Copyright 2004