torsdag 20. februar 2014

I don't recall at what age I was, nor where, whether in the great North or on the fearful coast, beneath the shrill cry of seagulls, I touched a hand and it was my grandson's hand... He is 16 to day.


I loved you without a why,
Without a whence,
I loved you without looking,
Without measure...
I did not know my boy, 
That you have been 16.

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