Monday, July 8, 2013

A Sentence As Curious As My Ten-Month-Old Granddaughter's Look


I have no way of knowing 
But it seems every time 
You look to touch my face, 
Your little body’s trying 
Hard to flesh out what 
I hope you remember well after 
This bag of bones has gone its way. 



7 comments:

  1. Beautiful and touching, Vassilis. Those who don't think "Oh yes" on reading this must never have had the pleasure of a grandchild on their knee.

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  2. Vassilis,

    infants can invent nothing false. You shall be around a long time, indeed.

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  3. I love that this is a body trying to figure things out and not some ghost notion of mind.

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  4. it is that quality of wonder and spontaneity that makes all children beautiful
    and when it is gone in adults that absence makes them seem dreary and sad.

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  5. Well said, friends—I just hope this sad and dreary bag of bones will still be around when Phaedra’s old enough to read this poem and your comments!

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  6. Quite moving, this one.

    Dunno about the granddaughter's memory, it's probably already a lot better than this old man's -- but for as long as that lasts, this poem will stay lodged therein.

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  7. Thanks,Tom--

    Let's hope that memory keeps speaking to you for a long while yet--we'll be here listening to hear it.

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