Truth be told,
there is no blood to hold
the iron scaffolding of family around us.
She is wife’s daughter’s daughter.
I own no provenance
to prove that lauded connection,
to claim her, “Of my blood-line..”.
But she knows I’d with pleasure
bear the flames of Hell to keep her well.
I witnessed her debut from the womb
and am sure she will, tearful,
kneel beside my tomb
and vouch safe my title.
“This is Poppa Ken, who loved me as his own”
There exists no deed for this devout wish,
other than the vow I made in silence in my heart,
when I pledged my all to her Mother’s Mother
at the only alter to which I bow,