Grandfather Mine

An ode to Papa.

I stared into his sleeping face

grooved bark

aging flesh

borne in joy and suffering

both in depth and breadth

 

life realized with a practiced eye

grandfather mine

wisdoms gained at a knee too proud to bend

inwardly I leaned alee

until the withering began and it was time

for him to lean on me

recession crept in by degree

reflected in soft angel hair

his snow white halo of resolve

once shone in ebony

rivulets carved long syne slacken

in the hollows of shallowed breath

internally I begged "sleep no more..."

but alas the reaper's ears are deaf

my entreaties eased not my mind

... all was for naught

 

a pallor ever reaching

consumed his time

 

all that I am you begot

grandfather mine