Wednesday Writing.


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


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 



Helen said...

You write of a grandfather we all yearn for ... wonderful Magpie!

Linda said...

Your poem tells such a nice story. Thanks for sharing it.

Allie said...

This one made me cry, Susan...I miss my grandpapa so much.

susan m hinckley said...

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.

luanne said...

Again, your (relatively) few well chosen words conjure a glorious multitude of images and emotions.

Loved this!

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