The Grandfather Poem by Catherine Habbie

He lived all alone in his secluded room
That no one was even allowed to broom
At evening vespers his silvery hair flared
But not a word said anyone, nobody dared

He had his quirks that were really perks
He developed new ones each day
But not a word anyone dared to say
In the end he always had his way

No one tried to look within
See the heart of gold that was well hidden
The cries of wars, the cries of pain
Cries of days lost in vain

The brilliance was easily forgotten
By people who couldn't get into his skin
He trudged along as an unsung hero each day
He kept his thoughts locked away

He read, he wrote but rarely spoke
Glared everyone with piercing looks
People even mistook him for a spook
Always lost in his old books

But when he bellowed
The earth shook
And took cover in the nearest nook
Why he never even left the poor old cook

Then one day his eyes turned yellow
Why he had begun to turn mellow
On his perch, he now had a little fellow
The chubby little cherub instead bellowed

The grandson sat on his wooden rocking chair
Each day, each morn, only he would dare
Watching the old man in his lair
Now the old man slowly began to care

He laughed, he cried
He did his best, he really tried
Why the onlookers nearly died
When the old man at last sighed

To the charms of the little one he gave in
He couldn't help it he had to cave in
He soon forgot all his sins
The young and the old were like long lost twins

Each morn, each night they were together
The house was filled with mirth forever
No one cared about the noisy din
The old man had finally found his kith and kin