Do I know you; I thought I did,

through all the crap you thought you hid,

But being you I guess it’s right,

to keep that stuff from others’ sight.

Who really wants the world to know

what we ourselves are slow to show.

That secret thing that makes us shy,

what we alone can testify.

Who are we fooling?

You and I are quite the same

but disagree on naming names,

And when the truth must be exposed

don’t hide behind the names they chose.

You are unique and so am I,

yet all the world seeks to imply

That there is something deeply hidden,

not quite normal, near forbidden.

Screw ‘em.

My love for you goes far beyond

the usual cliché family bond.

Blood and spirit both combine

to join your soul with that of mine,

So with our names and titles gone

we face each one on one,

Not just some person to another,

in Christ dear sister, I’m your brother.

Get used to it!

Ye olde poet, Grandpa