Grandfather, grandson
The younger of the two, barely
wasit high, clad in his PJs,
trotting along.
In one hand a stuffed toy, comfort
for sleep.
In the other his grandfather’s hand,
comfort of a more sublime
type.
The older of the two, two times
taller, in grandfather garb,
ambling along slowly, steadily.
He says nothing for the time being,
merely trying to keep up
with the young one.
They come to a halt, waiting
for an elevator to bring them up home,
standing side-by-side.
Grandfather says something in a
mandarin dialect, fluent, soft.
Grandson replies in a mix of languages,
stuttering, childish.
They did understand each other.
Not just through the words,
but also though their joined hands.
