grandpa (wesley)


in my head,
there is always music
even when i want
the desperate quiet.
it’s your fault
and that is okay

standing in that pink kitchen
drying dishes
singing hymns
scheming how to get the next
root beer float
and suddenly
the little woman and i
are joined by

you take up the whole
room without saying
a word
pushing different love
at different people
and helping hearts heal

our duet suddenly becomes
a trio and that tenor
(oh for one more glimpse of that tenor)
has the power to move

that voice was placed in that throat
with those dinner plate hands
to speak truth
to sing love
to tell stories to awe struck grandchildren

people all over the country
treat me with respect
when i say i’m of your
and they talk about you
always singing

they say someone’s voice is the
first thing you forget
when someone is parted from you
i don’t believe that

i will not believe that


About Sarah Stoltzfus Allen

I love Jesus. My husband and kids drive me crazy, but I love them too. I tend to be over caffeinated. Don't try to talk me out of my 3:30 pm cup of coffee. I can't be talked down.
This entry was posted in poetry, relationships and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to grandpa (wesley)

  1. Pingback: -Monday poetry- | thoughts from the green room

  2. mplum3 says:

    this is so beautiful 🙂


  3. Paula Morgan says:

    Sarah, This is beautiful. I knew Wesley from the time I was a very little girl and went to church on Bowlings Creek until I got married and moved away. Yes, I too can hear him singing, right now as I think of him. Thanks so much for sharing. In Christ, Paula Riley Morgan


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