I believe
My grandson has magic eyes
When his looks wipe away
The look of heavy burden
In my psyche.
It’s a miracle
A day of ennui
Turns into a moment of joy
As your youngest grandson
Emerge from a baby bath
And gives you an innocent look
Of quiet concern.
He can probably sense your despair
When a long absence
Turns into a day
Of deep longing
As the lockdown
Transforms days into weeks
And finally into
Three listless years of
Recurring uneasiness.
I am hanging on
To this moment of quiet bliss
As I look into the eyes
Of my grandson
On this another desolate sunset
Of my life..