The boat sleeps in the boatyard.
When the moon rises,
the boat tells the trees and the frogs
the boat tells the trees and the frogs
stories about her boy
and his grandpa.
The boat carries them
through waves that gently rock her.
The boat is silent but she feels
and she hears.
Grandpa showed the boy
how to tie a knot.
How to lure a fish to his line.
How the birds in the sky are the guides.
Grandpa showed the boy
how to watch the tide.
How to ride the waves,
when they rock the boat up and down.
Grandpa knows the ocean
the way he knows the wide eyed boy.
Grandpa’s hands are large and rugged
.
The boy’s are small and tender.
At night
,
the trees listen,
the crickets sing,
the frogs dive into puddles.
They wait and anticipate the joyous tales
the boat will tell about the day.
This is wonderful. Lucky boy, to have a grandpa like that. (I can see a book of poems to Aiden one of these days. What a gift that would be.)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sherry.
Delete❤️Your greatest poem ever!!❤️
ReplyDeleteThank you❤️
DeleteThis is a wonderful poem of bonding.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteWhat a lovely bond Ayala. So many stories to tell, I would say!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Grace.
DeleteI really love this, Ayala.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Mary.
DeleteThis has a picture book feel to it. I can almost see these words illustrated with cheerful watercolor images of the grandpa, boy, and boat.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rommy. I am actually thinking about it :)
DeleteSuch a lovely way of diving into memories. Precious ones.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Victoria.
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