softie

my grandfather sits in his bed,
breathing heavy, happy and dying.
each and every light in the room
is reflected brightly in his eyes.

my grandfather, my grandpa,
the softie, the saint. i ain't as great,
but i try for his sake if nothing else.
my grandfather was the best of us,
and i can only hope that he
would be proud of me, though i know
that his love was unconditional.

(i have grown maudlin, full of memories.)

my grandfather was a softie,
but we are all that is left of him.