Grandfather
I have put away his things --
the smile of an old man
gold and silver, worn down
yellow and dark spotted
white hair slicked and styled
well before my time
his forehead high with thought
age-crossed, kind
his expert hands a mystery
but I know them
rough and wrapped around
my own small one
his suit of pockets just there
to hide my candy
these are the things I hold
my own pocket of thoughts
so sweet and still
with me, waiting for my reach
--smh
This poem is a Magpie Tale . . . a little late with this prompt, but there's still time to write your own! Or at least check out the other wonderful offerings at www.magpietales.blogspot.com
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5 comments:
You write of a grandfather we all yearn for ... wonderful Magpie!
Your poem tells such a nice story. Thanks for sharing it.
This one made me cry, Susan...I miss my grandpapa so much.
I'm with you, Allie -- my grandpas were both such a big part of my childhood, for which I count myself lucky and am forever grateful.
Again, your (relatively) few well chosen words conjure a glorious multitude of images and emotions.
Loved this!
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