I remember as a kid,
Each December, Grandpa told Stories from his childhood )>
When Chanukah was a simple holiday.
Lighting candles, one the first night, two the second, one more )>
Each night until all eight burned so bright,
The bronze menorah ablaze in light. Prayers sung, stories told, )>
Old ones by the adults,
New ones by anxious kids finally old enough to take a turn. Songs )>
And clapping filled the air, Chilly to save coal.
There were no gifts, no little toys for the children, just gratitude being together. )>
They’d watch the thin candles
Burn down, wax melting, dripping, pooling on the table. First time )>
We celebrated without him, my father
Cried softly as he retold Grandpa’s Sherman’s Chanukah stories. )>
For many years he continued
The tradition adding memories of his own. My own eyes are wet, )>
My heart so full as
I tell you these stories, my Grandpa’s stories, your Grandpa’s, )>
Stories that will go
On and on.