I lost count the number of times
you stole my nose
and put it in your pocket,
or saved it in a locket.
You’re the only one who knows.
Maybe I have Aunt Jan’s instead.
If so, I’m better off
so when I pulled your finger
and the rotten egg lingers
Jan gets to smell and waft.
Knock, knock, who’s there?
Always ready for a game of cards.
With a trick up your sleeve
and a joke to believe,
or a game of catch in the yard.
You’d share stories of being a cook,
but pies became your real masterpiece:
chocolate, apple, banana cream, lemon meringue.
Birthdays and holidays will never be the same
without that flakey crust, dessert is incomplete.
Some things never changed;
from your plaid, flannel shirt,
uneven shoes and your strut.
Your short buzz haircut
and always being older than dirt.
You will be incredibly missed.
From your laughter and smile
to your monkey faces and banter.
Now it’s my turn to say: see you later, alligator.
After awhile, crocodile.