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..