Grand

Glassy eyes beneath black framed windows,
Your bright stare fixed upon me,
The life of a man reflects into my soul.
I would sit on your lap,
Peppermint leather, tobacco armchair,
I’d study your thin silver hair
And you’d teach me to love and care.
Head of the table, cornerstone of a name,
The family would gather around.
You would lead a triumphant Hail, Hail,
The Gang’s All Here, and I would ponder the
Emotions of Heart of My Heart.
Now as we sit here, speechless,
We try to speak what we know,
How to feel, words we struggle to say.
They are bittersweet, yet inevitable.
With jovial laughter, and strong Irish brow,
You’d call me your baby, you were, you are, my baby.
And I’d say you’re the greatest man, and inspiration.
But I see that you’re tired, and I want you to rest
You’ve always been strong,
And now you face your last test.
I wait for your last song, but the true song
Is one unsung, in the heart of my heart,
One I can’t even start, for I’d choke if I tried.
I’d choke, and I’d cry.
Your tired, glassy eyes.