It was just a look, upon his face,
But whenever I saw it, I knew my place.
Popi never hit me, he didn't have to.
Just a look on his face, told me what to do.
Very early in life my popi taught me,
By that look on his face, I could readily see.
There were no beatings, and I loved him for that,
And all that he taught me, I never regret.
In another time, I can still see his face,
In a time where children, always knew their place.
I do miss my popi, but he lives within me,
Because in my children, his face I do see.
1/27/11 Alton Texas
Beautifully written, Juan, and I instilled that same look in the memories of my children. All I had to do was look and they understood. A great poem. Lynn
Aww I know that look too, I saw it on my grandma's face many times, it is the look that deserves respect, you write so beautifully.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful words, showing great love and respect. Very nicely done.