Abuelo

i am 7 years old

running down a dirt path outside the house

there are butterflies flying around me

i clap my hands together and catch one

peer one giant eye into the darkness of my palms

and see a pair of tiny wings

i am called for lunch

my feet are dirty

you walk by and swat a fly with a net you are holding

so i look at your hand

it looks rough and strong

it has worked and it has lived

that poor fly never stood a chance

i am 23 years old

and sitting next to your bed

there is a knot in my throat

and so many things i wish to tell you

you smile when you open your eyes and see me there

you blow me a kiss and i blow you one back

as you close them again

your hand is in mine

so i look at it

it looks soft and tired

it has held and it has loved

my poor heart never stood a chance