Hold my little hand, old man
And tell me how the world began
Tell me why the stars are small
And how the trees stand proud and tall
Tell me why the sun is hot
And snails and flies and newts are not
Speak to me in molecules
And ruffle up my follicles.
Show me where to go, old man
Because I don't know who I am
Tell me that I've done you proud
A few shortcomings are allowed
Tell me that this world is mine
And soon we'll both be out of time
Talk to me at your own pace
I'm happy just watching your face.
Don't give in just yet, old man
Remember all the birds that sang
And all those songs you sang to me
Of beauty in simplicity.
Talk to me again, old man
So I can say how proud I am
Of Grandpa's strong and steady hand
And mind.
Jack. Genuinely. It's brilliant. Great talent amidst turmoil. As poetry a few things rankle, like the two 'sangs' to close together, but the rhythm is effortless and the emotional grab at the start is maintained and intensified, leading to a lovely revelation of the specific rather than generic relationship at the end. Lovely!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
.............oh I am so sorry for your loss.....you penned a wonderful poem in his honor.....enjoyed reading every line....and definitely adding to my poem collection....