Donald-Felix
You only knew your grandpa when his body was on strike,
failing him, fighting him, stealing his conversation
stooping him till he could no longer stand
You only knew your grandpa when his broken body was beating
him but now,
my son of beauty, you walk the bold charcoal strokes of his
young profile
stalk past me on his rangy legs every morning and afternoon
Sporting his angular features, oddly arched brows,
smiling his ever-so-barely off-centered smile
wearing the face of the boy he was before I knew him.
He thought he was an awkward-looking, rough-hewn man
a jackpot-hitting man wed to the belle of his life
he never thought he was a thing of beauty
But here you are.
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