She said, “He’d want you to have it.

He carried it most of his life.”

I looked down, and in her hand,

was grandpa’s pocketknife.

 

I hugged my grandma tightly

and tears began to flow.

She dried them with her apron,

and said, “he loved you so.

 

This knife was used, she said,

to carve our names upon a tree.

I was only twenty one

and he was twenty three.”

 

My mind went back in time

to when I was just a lad,

and I pondered all the memories

of this knife, and my granddad.

 

With it, he cut bailing twine,

and scraped gum from a shoe.

It opened grandkid’s presents,

Cleaned fish and scaled them too.

 

I remember watching grandpa

as he made my first slingshot.

I still have it, and it’s better

than any ever bought..

 

How he loved to whittle

and carve fun things for me;

A horse, a pistol, and even a whistle

from a young spring aspen tree.

 

The greatest of all gifts

I’ve received throughout my life,

Is the one my grandma gave me…

 

Grandpa’s Pocketknife.

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