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.
