Grandpa

He taught me how to catch a trout,
To take it home and clean it out.
Fillet the bone from head to tail,
With nothing, but knife and pail.

He taught me how to bivouac,
To stake a tent and find a track.
Pursue it slow, with not a sound,
As if, our prey could hear the ground.

He taught me how to chop a tree
To smaller pieces, mostly three.
We burned it in the fireplace,
I miss that heat upon my face.

He taught me how to shovel snow
And fish the ice at two below.
With frozen face and icy ear,
Aside the hush, I still could hear.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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Boreham Avatar
June 20, 2018 at 12:37 PM
Really good poem William King, Thanks for sharing, Kindest Regards Paris-Maree
Thomas Avatar
April 17, 2018 at 11:25 AM
I never knew any grandparents. You make it sound amazing William :)
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