March 9, 2005
Marvin Ellis "Red" Pope
June 19, 1918- March 9, 2005
I always wanted to know you, Red.
I know where you came from,
but where have you gone?
What answers to my unasked
questions followed you
to your grave?
Father to my mother,
and yet I never really knew you,
nor your wife,
nor how you both shaped
the course of my life
through the influence you wielded
in hers.
I know your hands;
the south Texas soil they turned;
the wood they worked
to form a desk, a chest,
a headboard for a wedding gift.
I remember the finger
missing from your hand,
and the stories you told
of how and why and when...
everyone always laughed;
so Red, your tales must have
held a hint of truth;
because I know your wife
is still quite capable
of biting off more
than a finger.
I never really knew you, Red.
Yet when the phone rang,
and I heard my mother’s voice,
I knew someone was gone,
and I hoped it wasn’t you.
I hoped it wasn’t you.
I always wanted to know you, Red.
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