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  • I'm drinking a vanilla latte for you, Grandpa
    Though I must admit, I held the whip
    That's the way you always liked everything--
    sugar on your toast, cream on your cereal
    Chips Ahoy! for breakfast and pie before dinner.

    You liked sugar in and on all, but your words.
    Your words, not sugar-coated but true,
    when they were sweetened--it wasn't artificially
    and when they were stern, sudden or even shocking
    they just were: an unapologetic you-ness.

    But when the corners of your eyes would brim with tears,
    the deepness of your voice release just a little
    and the encircling of your arms tighten a bit;
    I could smell the sugar on your bread,
    and the vanilla in your espresso.

    And so now, when I sip my coffee (strong and black)
    or nibble my toast (plain and grainy);
    I'll just imagine you're here--
    sitting across from me, grinning wide
    with a spoon in your hand, full of sugar.
    Ready to make everything sweeter.
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