GREAT UNCLE WEBB - David Michael Jackson      My great uncle Webb      never      wrote a poem, I      could hide my finger      in his wrinkles, and      he had giant floppy ears      and      loved the Yankees. He said      they couldn't lose with      Maris and Mantle.      My great uncle Webb lived      with his sister, and      worked in a laundry, he      pressed clothes.      I remember the machine      and the steam      My great uncle Webb drove      the same car      for      twenty years, and      when he died, we      all wanted it, and      it was in      perfect      condition      My great uncle Webb      never married, he      drove slowly      in      the middle of the road, and      settled at night      into his special chair.      My great uncle Webb      never      wrote a poem.      He had that in      common      with God.      I bet they're watchin' the Yankees      right      now. Send private comments to author, editors@artvilla.com Read more David here Read the Poem Of Every So Often at https://www.artvilla.com