Perambulations with my Grandfather
To my Grampa on his fifth death anniversary.
Like ye, I can never aspire to be!
He grabs walking stick and tiny arm at the stroke of four. I yawn but slog along. We walk towards west. The fading sun tarnishes his specs in shades of yellow, ochre, blue, purple - autumnal colors through his eyes I see. He hospitably waves at an airplane; asks me to wave and repeat 'Bon voyage!'. Sometimes his words baffle me; belong to a language I speak not. I tire running along; keeping up with his pace. My interest begins to wane. I become cranky. He hoists me onto his shoulder; wonders aloud how perky sparrows can be at this hour. We arrive at the confluence just in time. The sun declines. We recline; he on tree and I on his veined legs. Both shut eyes; I sleep, he ponders. While worlds evanesce, we coalesce - share delight of our company and sight.
Like ye, I can never aspire to be!
He grabs walking stick and tiny arm at the stroke of four. I yawn but slog along. We walk towards west. The fading sun tarnishes his specs in shades of yellow, ochre, blue, purple - autumnal colors through his eyes I see. He hospitably waves at an airplane; asks me to wave and repeat 'Bon voyage!'. Sometimes his words baffle me; belong to a language I speak not. I tire running along; keeping up with his pace. My interest begins to wane. I become cranky. He hoists me onto his shoulder; wonders aloud how perky sparrows can be at this hour. We arrive at the confluence just in time. The sun declines. We recline; he on tree and I on his veined legs. Both shut eyes; I sleep, he ponders. While worlds evanesce, we coalesce - share delight of our company and sight.
0 comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave your impression about this post.