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Picture of My Grandparents

I watched her as she watched him;
Embraced in a lock of two long lovers’ limbs.

My grandmother holding my grandfather’s hand,
As each breath of his slip as if they were drops of sand.

In a dial whose demand is but spent supply of his time,
Stolen by the thief who is free to perform a perpetual crime.

For the Reaper grins with grim dimples in such imputative avarice,
Unfettered by false claims of such fellows as Lazarus.

And so I watch with horror as the most brilliant man I know,
Slips away from the man I call my very own Poppy Joe.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 2/5/2018 7:44:00 PM
Brendan: This poem would make Poppy proud. Keep them coming. And thanks for sharing these moments with all of us on the soup. oldbuck
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Date: 11/20/2017 5:10:00 PM
well written. Grandparents are our kove idols and our inspiration. I like the Rhyme. Congrats.
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