PurplePegasaurasRex

My granddad has ears like a Buddha statue, big and long ears, which can only hear the softest whisper of the loudest cry. Perhaps his ears are too busy listening to his own thoughts and memories. Perhaps he is listening to a voice that is no longer there.  Parallel to his eyes, which are covered by a thick wall of glass, is a photo of him and my, now past, Nana. His eyes go to a distant galaxy, when looking at that photo. They look heavy and sad, from the pain of a love one leaving this Earth and entering the Kingdom of Heaven. But his eyes sparkle like the stars on a crisp, cool night, when his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildre