He died when I was two

You can see the pride in his eyes
Captured forever in that moment
A flash of light in the window,
Green fingers of a Christmas tree
Just reaching into the photo

Sitting, wearing shirt, jumper and tie
One hand on his dog's shoulder
The other on a baby's knee:
His first grandson, held close
Cradled in his lap

That was me; I was his.
But was he mine?
He died when I was two

Christmas Day in '88
He smiles forever
Full of life and unvain pride
A grandfather then, a grandfather always.
And his grandson, not three months old,
Too young by years to yet be me

In the window
His reflection looks out into the dark.
He died when I was two.

^

Biography

Chris Blair is in fifth year in The High School, Rathgar. He won first place in the Junior Poetry Section of the Drogheda Creative Writers Short Story and Poetry Competition this summer, and in August joined the Alternative Entertainments teenage writing group, at the invitation of a friend. He writes both short stories and poetry. This is his first published poem.