You have shined his head,
Layered his chin,
Patterned his skin,
And plugged his ears.
You’ve bent his back,
Brittled his bones,
Creaked his knees,
And shuffled his feet.
You’ve taken friends—
Even put a memory on rewind.
Looks like you’ve done it all.
Nothing seems to work these days,
And nobody has the parts for an overhaul.
But his eyes,
Sparkling children bathed by dancing stars,
Shine on.
Yes sir, fooled you.
Maybe that’s why Grandpa chuckles so much.