I never had my heart stolen by anyone so grand
as when I was three and discovered my sweet granddad
my memories only go back to when I was three
It was my first real memory that, to this day, I could see
mama said my granddad gave me my name
when I was born
she had another name picked out, and she was kind of torn
but she remembered How granddad had lost in death his young wife
He had to raise the children after her death, which completely changed their lives.
so mom decided to let him have his way
and grandad gave me the name I have to this day
In My memory, at 3, I was wearing a polka dot dress
looking up at him, my head on his shoulder rests
I remember looking into his sparkling eyes
they were a bright blue, just like the sky
my granddad was a remarkable man
His influence on me strong would stand
in some nine short years, he came to be
My daily sidekick next to me
he’s lived next to our Fenceline just down the road
Grandads was retired from working on the railroad
his garden stretched as far as your eyes could see
old Bill, his horse, plowed the ground for planting seeds
in his garden from sun up to sundown
It is the place where my granddads found
Everything I learned about the land
was from watching granddad as he used his big hands
There wasn’t a flower’s 🌸 name he didn’t know
we could even make a sickly plant grow
the days and weeks turn into months and years
But when I was nine, I experienced my worst fear.
granddad was tilling one day in the field
when he just slumped over, no more flower yield
I didn’t understand the look on daddy’s face; it was gloom
Until the day they brought him from the hospital and put him in his room
he was only there for just a little while
I didn’t see him, but Mom said he died with a smile.
I don’t remember much after that except that.
I would cry every time I saw Daddy wear his old hat.
I started visiting my favorite place in the woods
I sat and thought about how things used to be good
I was staring at a bird in the corner. That’s the first time when
I first saw him standing by the orchard gate. He was very plain and thin.
I hesitated for a moment, got a little closer, and I could see
it was a bucket turned upside down on a post in front of me
it was someone’s target practice, no more a helpful prize
the holes they made in the tin bucket looked like two big eyes
the dent in the middle looked like a nose a little bit
turned upside down hanging there, the handle made it fit
It was just an old rusty bucket on an old fence post
But it wasn’t my granddad, and that’s what hurt the most
I remember using my fist and started pounding on the ground
crying and crying until I was making a mewling sound
finally, when the tears ran out, and I calmed down
I decided it was OK that the bucket was upside down
I started talking to the bucket that hung there on the fence
he became Mr. gate bucket from that day hence
I would stop and visit every time I went for a walk in the woods
I always did the talking, and he silently listened as he should
he was my best friend throughout the rest of the year
Faithful Mr. Gate-bucket help me get beyond all my fear
to this day, I thank Mr. Gate bucket because
He was the perfect imaginary friend I needed
to remember who my granddad was
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