My own gentle giant.

Hands that have worked,

With dirt and with stone,

Toiled and strained,

Down to the bone,

 

Sturdy and strong

Built to move boulders,

The weight of the world

Born on his shoulders,

 

A certain behaviour,

Of manners and pace,

Of patience and kindness,

And warmth in his face,

 

Of hard times and good,

The eyes seen it all,

Observing and listening,

The lift to my fall,

 

A silent reminder,

Of all that is past,

Of war, life and living,

Of love that can last,

 

My own gentle giant,

Sitting in his chair,

I watch him shave,

And combing his hair,

 

This man is my granddad,

My life we have shared,

He’s seen, loved and helped me,

Encouraged and cared.

 

So when he sits silent,

Sat snug in his chair,

Don’t push him for words,

Just know that he’s there.

Author's Note

This is a very special poem to me.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for the poem for a good man. I hope you read the poem to him. The good people become part of us. Our voices will become their voices in time. I like the photo and good words. Thank you for sharing the excellent poem.
Coyote

[Sami Khalil]

A good poem with a tribute to a great grandpa.

[Enid Blake]

This is a fine tribute to your grandfather. The rhythm is very good :)