Poem about our Grandpa

Written by my Cousin Bill.

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The Grand Enigma

In the days of eloquence portrayed, when the Grand Enigma’s yarns parlayed

and held my fascination then; as much as now… and then again.

Whether tales of wars, thoughts and creeds, or those of tight knit families;

my ears would open, my mind absorb the special impact of his lore.

To hear it told was magic then; now the silence starves me deep within.

‘Twere also times conjointly spent building retrospections that can’t be lent

to help you understand The Man. So many queries have I on hand.

The Originator of The Man had left no footsteps; the void within.

The Grand Enigma’s knowledge of the consanguine – our great unknown.

The ache perceived within his heart, though surely great, he’ll not impart.

In his vesper years of evensong, his tales have ceased – now passed along

this fervent reflex thus assumed. The torch bequeathed… epoch anew.