Grandfather
Four fifty nine on a cool August day,
A bundle of pink in her mother's arms,
The first time she had been brought home
Her little fists flew about, and the clock struck five
Now she wears her auburn hair in pigtails,
Her eyes follow the lines of my face
As she skips her eyes meet my hands, one longer than the other
She giggles and runs to her mother,
Asking about grandfather in the corner
And the clock struck four
Her face has lost the roundness of youth,
Powder is dusted on her angular nose
Heels dangle from her tired fingers and her brown eyes glow red
Her breath mingled with dust as she took another sip
“How do you do today grandfather?”
And the clock struck three
Moving day has come and she is on her own
The last of the boxes are piled into the van
Running back to meet me, she whispers
“I’ll be back grandfather…”
And the clock struck two
Years passed and she never came back
and my hands can’t chase each other in time anymore
My body has grown still but
I continue to wait, my body resting as I watch for her
Heels click along the hallway floor,
“I’m back grandfather, I’m here”
Her hair has grown long and sliver
Small wrinkles freckle her face
Her smile was tired and aged,
no longer did her eyes trace my face with innocent curiosity
She had outgrown her old grandfather
And the clock struck one