Paul kept so much about himself
that was lovable hidden
in odd places about the house
the chicken coop
and stables.
Sometimes the neighbor kids
hunted for those aspects
like Easter Eggs
but never found them
because sitting by themselves
unused
those qualities
had no substance.
One should not
hold against him
that he chose to hide those qualities
thus appearing broken
to the eye that looked
only skin deep.
It is his life and he gave up
grand stand seats
at major league baseball games
to live here—
let alone feeling
the turnstile and all the hands
that pressed the bar
before his.
It was spring with daffodils in bloom
when I found shoveling heavy snow
for his older neighbors
placed in the bottom
of an empty cookie jar
up in the attic
when what I sought
was a souvenir baseball
with Cal Ripken’s signature on it.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 