Poem for my Grandfather

He was what he always was, just a kid from Pueblo
Who sold cabbages and corn, mowed grass and transplanted bushes
Chopped down weeds and watered flowers.

It took him 90 years to lay his foundations
To find the perfect bricks, find his perfect acre and level the land.
He placed each brick cautiously and firmly,
Simplified his elaborate plans content with a single room,
Securely roofed, that was warm, friendly and his.

Yes, he had his house, smaller then imagined
Where he could hide and emerge, laugh and reflect,
And light soft candles as beautiful as any cathedrals.

There was music and books, food and warmth, light and love

Friends who would grin at his jokes and looked at him
With love and respect.
And it never mattered to him that it took 90 years to lay his foundations...