One-Of-A-Kind
One-Of-A-Kind
By Rod Nichols
(C) 6/15/2001 All Rights Reserved
His laughter is what I remember,
he’d rear back and just let ‘er go,
one hand busy slappin’ his leggin’s,
the other hand wavin’ like so.
T’weren’t nothin’ he didn’t take note of,
whenever, whereever he’d been,
no man that he met was a stranger,
and all that met him became friends.
There wasn’t a thing he found fault in,
if any mistake it was his,
no blame ever fell on another,
if that’s not a saint then what is?
He only had one love forever,
one woman he placed above all,
a match made in heaven he reckoned,
for fifty-five years I recall.
In a world where we’re taught to be wary,
to look for the motive behind,
what a breath of fresh air he provided,
my grandpa was one-of-a-kind.
