You're a mystery to me, a modicum of memory.
I have your straight nose; your big, clumsy feet;
Your dry sense of humour and stubborn streak -
Or so I've been told.
I know you loved history - dusty books left behind.
I've heard stories about you, but they can't define
Who you really were.
I remember snippets of your eulogy, given by my dad,
The son-in-law you didn't like but grew to love.
I wish you'd known me long enough
To love me too.
But maybe it's better this way, trying to figure you out
Like a game of Clue, which I've been told
I once played with you.
So I'll keep piecing you together
Like the puzzles you loved,
Because you truly are the most fascinating person
I've never known.