I remember my grandpa
clay of skin penetrating eyes,
bald head,wisdom lines,shrinking deep within.
always jovial and calm,
rarely he smiled,silence ineffable
never did he scold,as i said ,jovial.
I couldn't talk to him an eye to an eye,
seemed like he knew my darkest secrets,
but never did he told me,always trusted me.

I remember my grandpa.
I remember his last days.
always quit,sleeping whole day,
but never did he lost that look of a hawk,
sometimes at night went out for a walk.
Oh! I remember how i used to wait for him
to get back from work and he always came with a smile on his face.

but one day he went away as usual,
caught my ******* to say goodbye,
I don't remember seeing his face,just a touch of hands,
then he went away.
i waited for him,and he came.
not as usual,not on his feet,but in my father's lap,
my father wailing away,i felt a pang of guilt..
i saw his feet ,tout as a stork,
cold as ice.
His whole body
shrivelled like a dry flower in its own shell,
i touched his bald head,as i used to do,
only this time it was cold and he didn't frown,
i bet i saw him smile,as we all cried.

I remember my grandpa.
hawk eyes,clay of skin..
i remember him.