We sit and look for hours and hours-
but what exactly do we see and hear?
I see his old sun beaten hands that were hardened from the harsh sun
and I hear the whistling lullaby as if it were from an angel singing to me.
He sees the new white baby skin and
all the ruffled and feathered hair.
And while he sits and holds me tight,
I see the gleam in his eye. The one that says: 'You are mine.
From you I shall never part. You'll always be my beaming miracle of joy.'
We sit and look for hours and hours-
I close my eyes and smell the mint of his candy
and the scent of dirt from the garden.
He'll always be my treasured papi, the one that held me
in his lap and brought me joy with the hearty laugh
that could move mountains.
But when my eyes open up, the scene is gone.
The Kodak moment hidden behind glass and wood
is all that is left of my biggest admirer-
He was able to have his joy, but mine comes only from the stories
I am told- and that is all that's left-that and the time I spend looking
at his picture. So now,
we will just sit here and look for hours and hours at each other
Christina Holdgreve
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-beaming-joy/
