Kissing My Grandpa

• Maia Brauner, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2013

He sat there like an old discarded toy, broken and useless
His eyes, a watery blue, were clouded over
As he saw me they lit up with a faint twinkle,
Like a distant star on a cloudy night
His old arthritic fingers beckoned me,
With the stiff movement of rusted gears
Despite the heavy scent of tobacco and liquor, I edged closer
His tongue lolled out of his mouth, like a panting dog,
And I watched the drool cascade down the rocky mountain of his chin
His mouth gave a slight twitch, similar to a rabbit’s nose
He wanted a kiss.
Hiding a grimace, I leant down to kiss his wrinkled forehead,
Each line and crease with its own story
My lips gently brushed his oily skin and I pulled away swiftly,
But he squeezed my hand gently, like a faint pulse:
He wanted another one.