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.


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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