I thought Death was like winter,
Just a passing thing.
Grandfather, I hadn’t thought that I
Would never get this chance again.
So young, I was, on your lap
Head rested on your shoulder and
I wouldn’t realize what I’d lost
Until I’d gotten wiser, older.
When Mom told me you’d passed away,
I’d thought little of the thing.
I cried, of course, but somewhere deep down
I thought Death was like winter.
I thought that you’d be back the way
The birds returned in spring.
I’d thought your face would reawake
With the budding of the trees.
I was so young I didn’t know that
Some things do not return.
Grandpa, oh, why did I go
Thinking that you’d come back to me?
I thought Death was like winter;
Silly, silly me.
