Granda

he was known as
Big Tom
his two hands were like
a pair of shovels
with skin
his voice was barely
a note
above a whisper
but he could bark
given sufficient reason
generally, words were hardly
spoken
it was the nuance
the gesture
through his soft blue
eyes
his broad honest smile
stretching like a clean
bright shoreline
you understood the exchange
all our vacations
spent with him
until my father died
now that was a sin….

By Paolo Michell

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About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
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