I remember witnessing a prepared plate taking flight
Without so much as one bite out — I can still smell that toast
Can hear Pop roast her, cause "We're farmers, we use butter!" — right?
As if he personally had any room there to boast

I watched as everyone watched Pop, pop off, heavily dosed

I hark back to my little cousins eyes, losing their light
When you warned him at just three that you could make him a ghost
I recall a flit my own once had 'fore my face drained white

I caught not a glint in my Ma's stare — not a single sight

On the initial day that my Granny became bereft
She tore every inch of worn parkay out of his house
Square meters bore full...