It wasn't a remarkable face,
It was lined with furrows like a field.
High cheeks, permanently ruddy
from a lifetime of laying brick outdoors.
Crystal blue eyes with a twinkle when grandkids came around...
A mouth that hummed more than it spoke,
But spoke wisdom when it did.
I can still smell that face
as he held me close to kiss...
Scratchy from whiskers that grew out since the morning shave
and the faint smell of lathered soap.
The face was always old to me,
But as it grew older I saw it perch
on a frame that grew smaller to mine.
I love everything about that face,
and one day long to hold him close again.
Psalm 145:4One generation shall praise Your works to another,
And shall declare Your mighty acts.