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A poem dedicated to a fond memory. |
| A gentle hand, calloused beyond age. A wrinkled parchment, taken from a torn page. Polite magic from the soul of a proud man. A prayer told to a small boy of a promised land. Tears roll down an unshaven cheek, a warm smile. Magic in his blue green eyes, sitting for just awhile. Oh Lord, he cries, keep away this awful pain. A whisper falls from among the stars, comes with the rain. I fall asleep on his lap waiting for the morn. I see grandpa in my soul, a child of five, sad and forlorn. Grandpas' prayer is on my lips, caught in my throat. Goodbye grandpa, I cherish the memory, I walk into the rain. |