my Grandfather haunts me

there he is
squatted down on his
haunches,
smoking cigarette
between his fingers,
dripping ashes.
that serene smile.
his brown leather loafers
falling apart,
his paint bespattered pants.
he’s taking a
rest from putting
the new linoleum down
over the
old linoleum on the
bungalow kitchen floor.
“why don’t you take
Guy for a walk
in the field over yonder,”
he motions with his hand.
“just be careful
not to step
on the glass from broken
bottles, and
the rusty nails.”