Grandpa Lines
sharpening our pencils, mending our shoes
a man of many a shade and trade
dressing our wounds,piercing our ears
squeezing glasses of fresh lemonade
to instill in us values and principles
never-ending lore, anecdote and fable
always radiant in the light of faith
he made us pray always at the table
the litany of words he spoke with perfect diction
all of us cousins would start spelling
rewarded us to do adds/subtracts with chalk
covering every open space in his dwelling.
he made us stand and marked our heights
against that ‘wall of pride’, each summer
etched lines of growth labeled with names and dates
for each of his grandsons, granddaughters
I touch the resilient lines of love
when I visit, I sit in his rocking chair
feel his gentle eyes on me
keeping a watch from somewhere
Written on 06/29/2016
Copyright © Sara Chansarkar | Year Posted 2016
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