I give my daughter’s daughter
back to her mum
basking in the warm glow
of the title
Grandfather.

There is a fullness,,
a rightness,
when you see the one
who bestows the title
snuggled up and buckled
into her car seat.

It is only later that
the other connotation kicks in:
Grandpa, old timer,
author of all that is wrong
with the world.,
the dust that
the new brooms
are trying to sweep away.
.
This comes later,
when the small one
has gone home
and I am left
in the dark,
once more, confronting
the indifferent distain,
and the smug conceit
of a society that prizes
not age nor wisdom