The Icicles Dripping
I’m watching the icicles dripping,
Reminded of ten years ago,
When I held up my grandson to watch them,
All the things then that I couldn’t know.
How he’d soak up so much he was learning
And prove to be clever and smart;
How his joy in our moments together
Would tattoo him right onto my heart.
How he’d love to hear all kinds of music
And would shine when he played the trombone;
How his passion for reading and language,
Which we’d shared, he’d continue alone.
How some interests would serve to sustain him -
New cuisines, tech advances and school,
While some others would fall by the wayside -
Making maps, which were detailed and cool.
There will be so much more in the future
That his mind will grab onto and hold,
But when we watched the icicles dripping,
So much living had yet to unfold.
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