New Poem for my stepgrandson

                                                            Luca At Two

                                                            Golden haired,

                                                            Serene or squalling,

                                                            Monarch of all

                                                            He surveys.

                                                            It was touch

                                                            And go at first –

                                                            A teary transfer

                                                            From grandparent

                                                            To grandparent –

                                                            Until he spotted

                                                            The garbage truck.

                                                            “Garbage truck,”

                                                            He said sagely

                                                            And soberly,

                                                            Pointing emphatically.

                                                            Sensing common ground,

                                                            We eagerly concurred,

                                                            “Garbage truck,

                                                            Of course,

                                                            It’s Monday!”

                                                            The ice had

                                                            Been broken,

                                                            Our day together

                                                            Could begin.

                                                            To be able

                                                            To make him

                                                            Smile, or even

                                                            Better, laugh,

                                                            Was a privilege that,

                                                            Once earned,

                                                            Made the day

                                                            Evanescent

                                                            Yet Essential.

Published by thome2040

I'm a librarian living near NYC, have had several poems and stories, as well nonfiction published in various ezines. I've finally broken through in print as my novel "Where Do the Children Play?" a story based on true events concerning the kidnapping and drowning of a young boy, was published by Black Rose Writing last October. They are also publishing my second novel, "In Elysian Fields," a love story between a baseball player and a poet, due out July 4 of this year.

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