My Grandfather's Portrait Poem by d'menz veen

My Grandfather's Portrait



Hung, on the white wash wall in the verandah
Of my house
My grandfather's portrait
There, old, but fresh and clean.
White cap, Nehru wore
White pyjama and piron
Khadi woven
A holding stick, made of cane
Bend in its holding and iron ring in the end.

Small eyes and bulging cheeks
Those ripen moustaches
Curled…..

My grandfather's portrait
Hung there still, since my childhood
Standing in soft blue background.
Not speaking a word, and
I have heard none.

The only portrait of my grandfather
When I see transports me to the past
Where my grandfather tried hard and soul
To bring his family unite

My grandfather's portrait
Hung there still and silent
Not speaking a word
Watching us do our job, never speaking a word.
In our sadness, he don't cry,
In our jokes, he don't laugh,
In our happiness, he don't smile,
Because he has done a lot before
A lot for his future generation

My grandfather's portrait
The idol of our home
My grandfather's portrait,
Hung there fresh and still
Never speaking a word
Silently watching us do our job.

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