My Grandfather Speaks

Written for my Gramps's 90th birthday: My grandfather speaks slowly and low With a fervor and fire of the warmest glow. "Speaking is praying," he says to me And consecrates each syllable selflessly. To the world, to the warmth of any man he sees, He offers his words with dignity. My grandfather speaks lowly and slow Of stories my heart has heard before. Stories that hold the earth in their midst And capture the essence of timelessness. In that static space between sleep and dream, His words pour o’er my mind like sweet cream. My grandfather speaks slowly and low To a blanketed boy he keeps in-tow. He tells of the world he has just found In the sweetness of baby’s cheeks so round. Though only one will remember this morn, He still whispers the glory of being born. My grandfather speaks lowly and slow As we walk beside the ebb and flow Of oceans vast carving rocks beside: A beauty only He can describe. And on that beach with its mystique, Not even grandfather could find words to speak.