“Fingers was made before forks,” my Granddad said
Back when I still believed that storks
“I like him,” he said when I brought a young man home.
We scratched our names in sand
Till the tide came in.
Fingers tap computer keys
But my heart’s key
Was a letter from the young man, penned to me.
Fingers came before pens as well,
And dreams switching from child’s to mine
Remind me Granddad’s gone.
Perhaps I’ll write his name in sand
Next time the tide comes in.
Then child and man and I will dine, with forks in hand.
Written for ReadWritePoem #8, unusual metaphors for love