A little thing by our FT :>)


As his son speaks,
I see Grandad
during our last time together
sage slacks, white shirt, beige cardigan,
blue eyes twinkling as he leans on his cane.

She, one of the stepdaughters,
muddies his smart clothes
and sets his eyes to reddening.
He wobbles and blurs, unstable.
Where did my Grandad go?

Grandad returns in glory
with Dad's closing voluntary:
his clothes are sparkling
and his blue eyes gleam.

Poetry by Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 27 times
Written on 2021-06-08 at 16:47

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
I like the way you've used description (visually and aurally) to give us a glimpse of your Grandad; as well, the way you've bracketed the "muddies" middle stanza with . . . Thanksgiving.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is very nice.