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
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
