Poem by Annalie Gilbert Keith '18

April 25, 2016 by Guest Student Author


A man I never met

sits in a chair,

his hand,

my father’s hand,


suggesting the spark

of a story yet to come.

His mouth is opened

suggesting words waiting

to escape from the prison

of his restless mind.

His mustache curls

around his teeth,

his lips taut.

His bushy eyebrows

are raised in excitement.

I know the expression.

Or rather its reflection

on the man’s son.

His ears stick out:



as if to match his tone.

His square glasses frame

the tired eyes of a man

who has lived many years

with too few left to come.

His hair is the only

thing on his body

that is immaculate:

parted and combed.

His suit which ought to be

straight, refined, is thrown

in different directions,

pushed aside by the dog:

a cocker spaniel

looking for the way out,

trying to escape,

but restrained by the man’s gentle hand.

My father sees a father in this man.

I see a reflection of mine:

so different

with such similar







I never knew the man in the picture,

but if pictures really speak

a thousand words,

I know all I need to.

I see personality.

I see a human inside the frame

which is perched upon a desk,

tilted just so

my father can see his father

when I go up to his study

and ask him questions that create

the same excited furl of the lip,

eyebrows raised, hand extended,

sitting on the edge of his seat,

caught up in the moment


Written by Guest Student Author

Periodically students volunteer or are asked to write for the Stoneleigh-Burnham blog.

Filed Under: student voice, Poetry, National Poetry Month