My father had an aunt who in all parties

made a point that all the time her person

always was the center of conversations,

but she never went to a deathwatch.

Suddenly we discovered the reason of absence.

She never in dreams would be able to compete

against the deceased.

Always on Tuesday, Saint Anthony’s day,

I attend Mass at Saint Anthony’s church,

the littlest and farthermost of my town.

Indeed, it is more like a chapel.

Few people go there, they pray mainly

at Saint Vincent’s, in Central Square,

that looks as refulgent as a Cathedral.

They are unaware that the church I go to

was built on the ground of old, or better,

the oldest of our cemeteries.

I know that great-grandparents’ bones

are in the foundation of Saint Anthony’s.

And I firmly believe that

my ancestors dispense their blessings,

along with those of our Lord

and of the Saint of every Tuesday evening.

Published in “Whispers”,  February 02, 2016.

http://www.whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com

           — A Children’s Chorus —

Every day I fetch my granddaughter,

four and a half, invariably by five pm,

from her kindergarten.

Parents waiting at the classroom door,

she suddenly grabs me by the hands and,

to the teacher’s and everyone’s astonishment,

leads her colleagues,

in all sixteen, to sing

happy birthday for me.

So, she gives me a wrapping paper folded

like a letter, in pencil written – I love you.

What more needs a man?

Published in Right Hand Pointing, issue 94, January 2016.

http://www.righthandpointing.net

My granddaughter tells me

that her mother, my daughter in law

has taught her that everybody will die.

My mother, nor father, even smarter,

has never told me anything like this.

Aged a man, now I learn from a kid

life secrets so long hidden from me.