Wilmer At 63, by James Hewitt

Now that I’ve turned 63,
I realize my Grandpa
Was this age when I
Was a boy of 10.

When I was a boy of 10
My Grandpa seemed like an
Old doddering man,
One who shuffled and whistled
And said few words to me.

Now I am my own Grandpa.
Are He and I one and the same?
I still feel that boy of 10
Living inside of me. 

Was he so young at heart
As he puttered in the yard
And called me over to help with the weeds?
Am I my own Grandpa?

Yet I AM this old
And I know that inside of me
He is only a memory
Of what it was like
To be 63.

Wilmer was more like me
Than I can ever really know.

I am my own Grandpa.

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