Granddads

A mop of white hair Over a young old face A pair of laughing eyes Locked in a different place As he tells his grandchildren Tales of his youth Each one guaranteed to be Ninety percent of the truth. He talks of a million years ago, Really just nineteen sixty two, And they look at him in The way grandchildren do. He tells of his adventures Of his scraps and scrapes Marvelling in his mind At some of his escapes. A grand daughter says You’re telling fibs I think He gives her a smile And then a slow wink. They all give him a hug When it’s time for them to go And he experiences thoughts That only Granddads know. He thinks of the joy, pains And sadness they may know And hopes they’ll all learn As they mature and grow. Life is such a gamble And it’s a privilege to see The continuance of his line And how it’s going to be