My grandfather has fallen
asleep with a paperback
in his lap, hands
braided, glasses
on — and I watch
his reflection from the bathroom
mirror where someone has
left a stick of deodorant
by the sink that says
and I am 10
if it’s 1980
and I think the same about
him — sure — he’ll be
gone one day,
but looks so content
I want to remember him
this way, always.

Categories: poetry

Tags: , , , , , , ,

15 replies

  1. There was a Freshly Pressed post the other day (I rarely read FP posts; who does?) from a poetry editor who was moaning about poem subjects. Please, he said, do not submit poems about the ocean, love or death unless you have something absolutely new to say.
    I bet he doesn’t get too many deodorant poems.
    Joshing aside, I like this moment, especially the idea of watching via the mirror.


  2. I’m going to guess the paperback he was reading was a Louis L’Amour. Really nice images.


    • Yeah, that’s awesome Jon – why not, Louis L’Amour? I can see that. Thank you, I’m glad you liked it. Colors are fading on my Polaroids, you know?


  3. Nice image. I like. I saw the book as a small, faded hardcover. No dust jacket, kind of weathered, and green.


  4. That’s my memories of my grandpa too. The only difference is that he loathed paperbacks and loved Shakespeare and fine art. He would sit in his favorite chair, soaking in the sun and the words in the book.

    Thanks for this poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. What a wonderful, real life way to remember him.


  6. what a great snapshot, of a man, and a moment frozen in time.


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