A SMALL CANISTER
I had enough money to pay his bills for the month
and hearing that he smiles and closes his door
After folding a lot of clothes I cleared the big table
one that had suffered years of family celebrations
Left were three khaki shirts dating back to his war
and as I hang them on the line for sunshine drying
I recall his awards of three of the big four bravery
medals but none had been pinned on a shirt of his
She died a year ago and after her funeral service he
never went out again saying his lives were complete
The old man's appetite had been off so I made for
him a supper of hot oatmeal and banana chips and
knocked on his door without an answer of any kind
He appeared to be sleeping but in his lap was a small
canister which the 9ll guys said was from the war
and wrote in their report that it smelled of poison gas
Grandpa always said that he didn't want to be a bother
to the ones he loved and who were so good to him