The Grandfather

The craftsmanship of hands at his decree

Tells a story of what was and what will soon be

A keeper is what you may call him

 The precious memories of the past

Bears the utmost

Till the night is anew and the day grows old

He will be there to manage

 

Pick a number between 1 and 12

The seconds spent here cannot be borrowed nor sold

Nor delayed to reach arm’s length goals

Lost time can never be found again

The thief smiles and laughs

For he has stolen a precious moment

 

Face the day with patience

But, never halt for too long

For Grandfather waits for no one

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741