In process writing

Grandpa Frank

His ice-blue eyes drew you in, duped you, or lifted you up like a leaf caught in a fall breeze.

He was, the ultimate salesman, a philanderer, a gambler who played gin.

He let me win.

Working on something about my grandpa Frank.  Trying to get at the idea that while he was a player and probably a bit selfish, he was kind to me, his granddaughter. Not sure it’s working quite right but will keep at it.  He had the most awesome eyes so was trying to work that in somehow.

Any suggestions?

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4 thoughts on “In process writing

  1. This has a great beginning. I think it would be a lovely poem. That’s what I’m sensing from what you have. I like the notion of you seeing a side of Frank that seldom came out, or few people saw. Perhaps a juxtaposition of the things you saw vs. what others saw in him could be interesting. However, everyone saw the same eyes. Keep at it!

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