Grandfather Walks
Grandfather Walks (4:51)
When I look in your eyes I see the story there told
You drift in and out of the shadows
To my ears and eyes the story never gets old
Of Grandfather’s walks in the meadow
He had a satchel for berries and a knife for his bread
And a fan should the day turn hot
A stick for his walking and a hat for his head
And in his pocket a blue forget-me-not
There were three for his daughters and one for his wife
And one for the boy never came
A crown for his storied impossible life
And one for the man who bore his name
Weathered shoes he pulled on as he got out of bed
A leather pouch for his bottle of wine
Baggy pants pockets for the books that he read
And poems…he could recite every line
The heart is a radiant whole rising moon
And wisdom a soft falling rain
Youth is a faint and a faraway tune
And time is a slow moving train
So think of him when the sun rises hot
When setting the table, or tying a knot
When holding a book that seems bound by the ages
Or finding a flower pressed flat by the pages
Sometimes in my mind my grandfather talks
But most times grandfather walks
From Lisbon to London from Rome to Madrid
But always back home to France
His head full of stories of things that he did
His life left to wonder and chance
A path through the forest that he took everyday
His three daughters trailing behind
To the edge of the field where the trees fell away
To the edge of the untroubled mind
The heart is a radiant whole rising moon
And wisdom a soft falling rain
Youth is a faint and a faraway tune
And time is a slow moving train
On trips to the well to draw deep from the earth
Or you glance at a mirror and discover your worth
Or planning a trip back to your favorite spot
To find your grandfather’s blue forget-me-not
The heart is an infinite whole rising moon 4X
Copyright 2021 Bruce T. Carroll