Poetry by Jeff Green



by cricketjeff on April 5, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

image by Giampaolo Macorig

Three dozen tiny sailors man their ropes
Three dozen grieving women left behind
An old man smiles towards his grandson’s hopes
And knows the tales that fill his growing mind

He started work the day the child was born
And built the brig as they were made of old
His love is in the parts that now adorn
The little ship his grandson named “The Bold”

And as he worked he told his grandson tales
Adventures that had filled his life at sea
The gentle breeze that fills the model’s sails
Becomes the wind that sets an old man free

And man and boy are running round the pond
While tiny men explore the far beyond