When I was four, a generation died
Chips and gifts are all I remember of him.
The stale room of old carpet, old TV, old glasses, older man
At thirty, the next generation died
Cards and stories are what I remember
The fair, cartoons, and weeks of time with older man
The next one's Dad, how much more time
On his knee, in his arms, soaking up time with an older man
Taught by, loved by, and guided by an older man
God willing, when my turn comes in time
Cards, stories, knees, laps, arms and time with me, an older man,
Will be remembered by generations whose time is yet to come and yet to be.
