Monday, August 20, 2018

Grandpa on the chair

Like a guard lion I sit
near the window that looks out
you sit before me on the street
holding all the dignity in the crook of your arms

little fingers over the pedals and you roll
into the direction that goes outward
there are chairs that have been made for us
to wear them even if they fall upon us

but he was steady, the mark of youth
sitting directly like a carried gift
a boy in your lap, yellow haired
smiling as you carried him

like a vessel sailing toward the sea
you move swiftly enchantment
against a wind that rejects your bones
this is the love of a grandparent, it lifts outside of the waves.

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