(after reading Once Busy Hands Lies Still to my Grandfather,
I was inspired to write these words)
~ 5 March 1987 ~

Hesitating, I re-entered
into his silent world
tip-toe in fear to wake.
Foible are my tears
for he looks so sad in his sleep.
Inside I do wonder
what could he possibly think
is it happy 
or sad?




 
Finally, he wakes 
and the sadness rides him,
-- he wonders, 
what can I do now?
His tired eyes travels 
around memories of the family members
who once filled this very room.



 
His sadness subsides for just awhile
I kneeled down upon my knees
and looked into his weary eyes
and told him,
I had written a poem
about your family home.



 
But you know ...
as the words began
my voice died to a faded whisper.
As I stopped and watched
he leaves his old armchair
in search of a protrait
of way back then.



 
Tears had gathered and fell
ever so gently down pass my cheeks,
as these words of 
past and future were spoken.



 
It has touched his very soul
oh my, do bless him.
Should I stop?
but he urges me to go on.
These spoken words of his life
all but true.
The message is so deep
his sadness -- pain so rich.



 
Tear-stained eyes travels with his
of the long ago portrait
that holds his family pose.
Tracing each child 
with his aged old hand
he does not know --



 
It hurts my soul
to see such puzzlement
seeing him hunched over with such tears.
Oh Lord, how it breaks my heart.
All those long ago tales,
dear grandfather, you so often told
wisdom you have come to know so well
the hopes you continue to have
the dreams in which you lived your life in.


 
Oh dear grandfather,
so easily you've shared your wisdom
... your hopes
... and dreams
your treasures of yester-year.
Through all this I continue to grow
inside of me is that wisdom
... those hopes
... and dreams.
You are my inspiration
a guiding light
into the yester-year.



 
So often I wonder ...
why they can not see
what I've been so deeply blessed to find.
Deep within his aged old heart
for he cries ever so gently
a big man with a large heart.



 
All those tears 
in which you have cried,
dear grandfather,
the tears of fear that haunts you
oh how, I wish to lift that sorrow.



 

When that day or night comes
and an angel gently lifts that sorrow
I know I'll lose 
a very big part of my life ...
my heart. 
Yes, I will always tip-toe in fear!