“Dear Papa, the oldest one,” the grand-daughter named Evelyn spoke.
“Your heart leaps as a youngster but your hair is white;
and therein I see something very youthful.
What do other’s my age think or say? Is this correct
or an aberration of adoration and love?”
“When I was younger,” said Papa, “than you I knew the things that could
muddle the mind and confuse the brain to think age has
anything to do with love or magic. To otherwise do,
I feared it would injure my brain.”
Evelyn thought as a young girl might.
“You look old but are not.” said this youth.
“because i shook the shack of a shilling box. I would
sell you some but you are mine heart.”
“How favorite, this thing papa.”
Said her papa: “never forget the magic of a heart!”
:: 04.16.2024 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 