A Tribute To Papaw

To Papaw


I climb the hill as nettles sting my legs
To see the stone that covers where you lie
The honeysuckle clinging to the crags
The pines that brush the blue Kentucky sky

A man of many means, you farmed your land
Menagerie of animals you kept
The works of wood created by your hand
The many folk that in your death they wept

The sons and daughters and grandchildren young
Were blessed to have your blood run through their veins
The dark coal dust that blanketed your lung
Took you too soon, your memory remains

The inscription there is deeply etched in grey
I hope to join you on that hill some day

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