Hope For Slain Hope

withered wrinkles crudely furrow grandpa's sun-burnt, leathery face; they tell of heartaches untold, dreams shattered, affection unrequited; a far-away look snuffed out long ago the once mercurial twinkle in his eyes; and his is the voice that smothers expectations lest they betray him; yet, now as he gazes out at his great grandchildren gleefully chasing their own shadows across wavelets rippling slow on the smooth, wet sand, he feels at the core of his pessimism, slain hope, breathing once again!