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Ind Feb 2022
I wonder why it took another mans tears for your ears to open to the truth.
Years I’ve spent crying over you,
Getting drunk off the whiskey residue on your skin,
Spinning in and out of your life
Alarmed and dizzy.
A meteorite that never quite hit the mark.

How were you to know you used to be the sun,
That you’d cast us into an ice age?
We will orbit you until there is nothing,
Spinning ourselves into oblivion.

I wrote once that your hands cradled dust,
But that doesn’t do justice the worlds your hands crafted
Or the lives you lived.
A father, first and foremost.
It saddens me I will never know all your children.
I doubt you feel despair that you never knew them either.
Tate Morgan Jul 2015
Here was the friend that heard the cries
from the monster under the bed
Who stood watch over her at night
just to scare away fear and dread

Through all the pain and the laughter
he's shared the pleasures and the tears
Watched over her every day
as the months have now turned to years

He is privy to her secrets
none of which he will ever share
The lifelong friend, who in the end
is her very own Teddy Bear

He takes the blame for toys left out
while passing her a knowing wink
The mess was his upon the floor
and the dishes not in the sink

His the last face she sees each night
a smile, greets her every morn
Their's is a friendship born of love
the bond that will never be torn

In the four years since my granddaughter was born she has had a Bear. This bear stood her in good stead through laughter and tears. He was there when her father died. He dried up all the tears that they both cried. He has slept beside her every night and played with her everyday taking on any roll her skits called for. Payton is rarely seen without Bear.So when her mother called to tell us Payton had taken Bear to show and tell at preschool I had to smile. For here is the repository of all her hopes, dreams and fears. All contained in the little bear with the big heart.
Francie Lynch Jul 2015
I saw a girl
Who belongs to me.
It was in her gait,
The way she turned her face,
And cocked her head
For clarity.
That girl belongs to me.
She's a reflective skeptic,
Knows a half empty glass,
But she doesn't cover
Her eyes with wool,
She knows when it's half full.
She enjoys serenity.
Yes, that girl belongs to me.
She only lives a life of fun,
Her demenor's one of curiosity;
Just the other day
She turned one.
Yes, that girl's one of mine;
I'd pick her in a crowd,
Spot her out,
Without a doubt,
That girl is so sublime,
She's definitely
One of mine.
Francie Lynch Mar 2015
Happen upon
The special one,
Like you've known
Her all your life.

Take Aine,
My grandaughter,
Like I've known
Her all her life.
Francie Lynch Apr 2015
She's so beautiful,
I'm speechless,
So, I'll write
About her.
Francie Lynch Mar 2015
Had you held her,
She'd be the death
Of you.
We see it
In her lineage,
Which we
Ascribed to you.
Eons of Irish tribes
Coverge in her
Blood lines;
She is like
The ripening fruit
That cures and makes
Fine wine.
My grandaughter, Aine.
My father, Papa.
Francie Lynch Mar 2015
O, Mammy if you'd met her
She'd take your breath away;
There's peace in her demeanor,
There's joy in her at play.
There's affection in her movements,
She's you in many ways.

Her eyes are lighthouse beacons,
Her skin is sculpted clay;
Her little hands seize my heart
With vice-like claws of love;
Oh, Mammy
Do watch over her
As you watched over us.
For Aine
Francie Lynch Jan 2015
When she speaks of me
They will think Granda
Is an old man, who wears
Corduroy pants
And a cloth Paddy cap.
They will also think
I wear wire-rimmed specs
And slippers.
That I have a loving heart.
I do.
I'm so pleased Aine
Speaks of me.

— The End —