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he's just a boy
by Charlie Morgana rush of a westerly wind
kited his blonde hair;
and for a moment, you want
to look for the needle.
so seeing the camel's hump
of exhilaration: his smile,
i amble along with him in tow;
on the look for windmills.
finding trash trucks instead,
he smiles, 'a trash truck, paPaw.
a trash truck.' plop! thumb in.
words cease: i'm on my own now.
every sight is King Tut's tomb;
Al Capone's safe; Elvis' scarf,
Buffalo Bill and the Wild West,
Dolemite and the Hanging Gardens.
each day he treks, Pyarmids rot,
newspapers die, become extinct.
Rock of Gibralter now a stone,
i live through him, forever.
05/08/2009 Posted on 05/08/2009
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Maude Curtis on 05/08/09 at 04:46 PM Oh Charle. Isn't it grand to relive and share our life experiences with our grandchildren. They are such amazing little beings. My children were never that smart or cute, Were They? |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 05/08/09 at 05:09 PM Your love for your grandson always shines through! Loved it! |
| Posted by Kris Mara on 05/11/09 at 12:11 PM an amazing portrait of amazement --- that feeling we have when a little one comes along, just when we think we've figured it all out and are the wiser, we're allowed a glimpse into what they see and, for me, I find myself realizing that they're the ones who have it all figured (or unfigured) out....and come to the same conclusion you have here: "i live through him, forever." |
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