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Grandparent’s Eyes by Francis Conlon

Francis Conlon | July 29th, 2018 | poetry | No Comments

Poem

There is indeed that gentle gaze,
From the elder who saw no wrong,
I recall now through history’s haze,
The grandparent who moved by gentle song.

Myself, I’m there, as age does go,
With eyes to select what I see,
To touch the child and help him/ her grow,
An entelechy meant for the child to be.

My grandmother looked with sagacious eyes,
Backed by deep love’s appeal,
A knowing from years and sources wise,
Approving small effects with a future seal.

Gone now to memory’s store,
Leaving, I think, a lesson to last,
Sage images linger on a distant shore,
Across life’s chasm that seems so vast.

Such looks maintain an ethereal sensation,
A nudge to advance a civilization.

(I’ll keep watch, as is right,
To foster, too, the eyes’ wise sight.)

Poet Bio

Francis D. Conlon is a retired and recovering school teacher. For the past 18 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger, and as a boat inspector for ANS (aquatic nuisance species), at Yampa River State Park and at Elkhead Reservoir outside nearby Hayden, Colorado, in northwestern Colorado.

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