still in his short sleeve,
steam-pressed, jet black shirt
clergical collar now set aside
his first after-sermon cigarette
in one hand, me in the other
I bounce with glee upon his knee
as he sings to me
farsical versions of nursery rhymes,
each one ending with
“and they threw it out the window”
and my predictive giggles
followed by his laugh
a loud, raspy, rambunctious roar
bursting from the heart
and seams of a Cheshire smile,
spirited, not spiritual
a genuine, joyful noise
sacred echoes of love
Join us at dVerse Poets Pub for Poetics! Write a poem of any style using the topic of “laughter”. It is a pleasure to be your host today.
I have fond memories of my Grandpa Burkart.
mishunderstood 