What a perfect moment
On the fourth day of December..
For days now
I keep looking at the picture
Of my sixth grandchild
Swaddled in warm garments
Seemingly struggling to make out
His strange new world.
For one who has nothing
For the Yule season
He is the perfect gift
In this season of uncertainties.
He is reason enough
To re-extend a life
Weighed down by
Endless calamities
Including the man-made ones.
I like the way he moves
His eyes trying to make out
Where the light comes from.
It is pure joy
Looking at the lock of black hair
Above his ears.
I can hear him let out a familiar cry
Probably same sound I heard
With the birth of my three daughters.
I can’t wait
To carry him in my arms
And help him welcome
The first sunlight
Of the new year.
I can see scenes from my own childhood
On his face.
Many years from now
He’d be watching
Pictures of his own grandchildren
On their first days on earth.
By then
He shall have remembered the grandfather
Who adored his picture
Plastered on his computer
While meeting the demands
Of the work-a-day world.
It is pure joy
Looking at his face
With his two sisters
Who adore him.
And then you remember
Traces of innocence
Of the child you used to be.
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