I was fascinated by you

During those humid summer nights

When the stars melted together into oceans of brilliance

And you and I had to speak softly for fear

That we would miss the rare, soft breezes from a cooler place.

You hoped I would stay a child

But become a beautiful woman.

And I wished I wasn’t ashamed of you

(I loved you so very much.)

I could pretend I didn’t smell the alcohol

Or see that your withered hands were no longer strong

When it was only you and me

And I was assured of your love for an unworthy brat.

I should have thought of those evenings

Under hot, lazy stars and indigo night.

When they asked me to wish you well

(Because your body could not be healed.)

But I thought of only how much I resented your beer

And your Cherokee blood and your weaknesses.

I would have said goodbye if I had known it was all I would ever say to you again.

Once upon a time, Grandpa,

You rested underneath a summer sky that you once called heaven

You rested, you slumbered,

You hadn’t the strength to wake up.

Once upon a time, a child

Foolish and stupid

Saw you through glassy eyes

When the stars could not reach a cold, stark hospital room.

Tonight, there are stars burning

And the air is warm and just right

I’m sitting outside, waiting for you to say those words

But I will never hear them.

And I desperately wish for the phantom smell of beer

And the feel of those frail hands clasping my own.

But there are only stars.