I remember—many years ago—
The house where Grandma lived. I know
So much about the place because
I was there frequently—it was
So close to where we lived. They had
So many books. It makes me sad
To think of all those books now gone,
Dispersed. A few then sat upon
Two wooden cases, darkly stained.
The cases long ago contained
Some titles I recall, among
Them readers by McGuffey. Hung
Above them were some pictures I
Cannot remember, though I try.
When my grandparents died—the worst
Of times—among the very first
Of things I wanted were those shelves.
By then, see, Joyce and I ourselves
Had piles of books that had no home,
From tattered paperback to tome.
And years soared by—and decades too.
And soon those cases sagged. Were new
Ones necessary now? I could
Not stand the thought of that. They’d stood,
Endured all that our hope supplied.
And now would they be cast aside?
No. Never. So today dear Joyce
Delivered them—was there a choice?—
Unto a shop where they’ll enjoy
A resurrection. And return
To serve again. Oh, they have earned
It all. I like to think they’ll thrive
Beyond the time that I’m alive.
And grandsons will employ them then,
Perhaps recalling where they’ve been.
Classic photos in the buff—I
Called the series “Nude-Os”—
Earned me lot of major bucks and
Critics’ earnest kudos.
Shakespeare Couplet: Romeo and Juliet
The Friar hopes a marriage will unite
The families who are now so filled with spite. (2.3)