I played dominoes with my grandson <br />His last year I played dominoes with my father <br />My grandsons dominoes had animals on their faces <br />My father’s were the traditional kind <br />There is little skill in playing <br />Much is determined by the hand you start with <br />Chance and luck plays a major role <br />In who wins the game. <br />Is that much like life? <br /> <br />My father played with dimmed eyes <br /> a befuddled mind <br />My grandson saw bright animals, <br />knew the differences <br />Between a cockerel, <br /> a cow.a sheep and a pig. <br />My father saw only dots <br /> and found it difficult <br /> to concentrate. <br />My grandson was beginning his life <br />Everything was bright <br />He knew the colors were alive <br />My father was ending his <br />In black and white and gray. <br /> <br />I played dominoes with them both <br /> the living link. messenger between the two <br />I was privileged sharing in the Game. <br />My father bequeathed to me <br />the Art of playing dominoes <br />Is that so much like life?<br /><br />peter rodenby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-art-of-playing-dominoes/
