The Grandad

I look over to my son laughing playing not a care,
Comes running when hurt or scared
running to me
But as time goes by I start to notice
His son running laughing not a care
Comes running to his dad my son when hurt or scared
into those same arms which were once wrapped around my legs
with full might which gave the feeling of father
Young working respected
But when i see that young boy i feel...

old useless the grandad
THE GRANDAD

poem by Donal Moran
Added by Poetry Lover
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