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The thumping blissful heart in the corner
beats like a constant drum of hope.
The man slumps in the soft maroon chair with so much knowledge in every hair
and so many stories to share.
The countless wrinkles show signs of aging mildly,
but a heart is as pure as a child.
Scars remain, leaving lasting memories from the hardships he’s bared,
but they’re just signs of the brave man that dwells there.
The stubborn man’s semi-bald head glistens in the beaming noon sun filled with love,
as many admire him from above.
His soft worn skin touches every life he encounters
with compassion and care.
The outline of the white t-shirt almost blends with the fragile skin showing no fear,
as the sweater contains the soul that so many hold dear.
Through the nerves and stress the mans khakis always seem to find time to wrinkle
when his belly starts a shaking as he chuckles, that makes my heart twinkle.
When life looks like its about to end or gets too rough to bare,
his faith and good will always prevail.
Some call this soul; Brother, Dad, Daddy, Old Man, Roger, Old Geezer, Mr. Coriell, Roger Sr. , Hero, Son, a Pansy, and the list never ends, but to me he’s Papaw.
When God created him He made my candle in the darkness, my angel from Heaven above, my hope when I’m hopeless, my peace when there is conflict, my doctor when I fall ill, the mender of my broken heart, my solid rock to stand, my map when I’m lost, my teacher when I’m confused, my everything wrapped in a unique old package.
My everything, My Papaw.