His Eyes Still Dance

He talked a lot once.

He told stories that made us laugh.

A man of the hills, his bright eyes sparkled

like a summer sky.

Then something happened, a stroke,

that quieted his voice and left his stories

hanging in the still air.

The eyes, though–

his eyes still dance,

filled to the brim

with silent laughter.

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About grannysu

storyteller, writer, poet, gardener, countrywoman
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, aros, People, short poems. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to His Eyes Still Dance

  1. Mamabug says:

    I so love this poem; it brought to mind one of my relatives.

  2. Libby says:

    It is so cruel when communication is cut off like this, but yet here the spirit is undaunted. Wonderful words.

  3. grannysu says:

    It seems cruel to me too, Libby. His mind is as fine as ever, and he’s a young man, younger than me anyway. But his joy in life is still there and still strong.

    Mama-bug, I think many of us have people like him in our lives, don’t we?

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