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