My Way

He always did things certain way

Some say the wrong way

I say his way

My grandfather with one leg,

And his PT Cruiser was perpetually perfumed

With the coils and twirls of smoke

his constantly lit cigarette coughed up.

Some said that this would end his story.

and when he ate what he like

we thought nothing of it.

what is diabetes to a man

already weathered by a fierce tempest?

So I suppose it is only natural that he died

Like he lived his life

Belligerent and wonderful

Stubborn and eccentric

A concoction of paradox’s

That perplexed everyone else

And enthralled me

 

Hence I will mourn him my way-

Some say the wrong way-

I won’t cry at his funeral

I won’t shed tears at my loss

Because that’s exactly what it is.

My loss.

And I will do with it as I please