A gentleman he was, indeed - <br />and handsome too, <br />despite the teeth <br />that flashed <br />(too bright, too white) <br />when he smiled. <br /> <br />He'd been a good looker <br />I'm sure, in his day. <br />Tall and shapely <br />with chiseled cheeks <br />and that faintly deferential manner <br />of one who has followed orders. <br /> <br />He was sitting on the couch <br />when we arrived, <br />surrounded by birthday barbecue buzz. <br />He cradled a small pink bundle in his arms - <br />his old hands patting, rhythmically <br />(and ever so fondly) <br />the new great grandchild. <br /> <br />His eyes were far away - <br />remembering perhaps <br />a time long ago, <br />when he was denied <br />such a feminine expression <br />of devotion. <br /> <br />There was something compelling about him - <br />the unconscious grace <br />of nearly ninety years. <br />His name was Stan.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-name-was-stan/
