This is a simple poem about an amazing, gentle, loving man - who helped to make me who I am today.
Ode to the Architect
By Thomas Herr
Walking on the sidewalk with the architect
Maple spinners falling like helicopters around us, occasionally
Old leaves playing on the ground in gentle wind
Shielded by the shade of the old spirit trees of Ashland Avenue.
Kicking stones passing homes
Holding grandpas gentle spotted hand.
Just to say I loved the man.
Walking to the barber shop with the architect
Carefully measuring steps on the sidewalk, 2 steps per crack
Laughing (...don't break your mothers back)
The buzz of Bedford road beckons us on a magical mystery tour
Hands full of bottles and cans, and
Hearts full of chuckle
Turning the corner we walk up the steps of the variety store
We redeem our stash for loot like gum and comics.
Then get a haircut with tonic-
with no complaints, just gratitude
Bazooka and Superman to sustain us.
Those were the days in the hands of the architect.