Me and him
Or to be just
Him and me.

A relationship unique
Aged and experienced,
I thought I was
Until
His inexperienced freshness
Taught me more.

Mature I was in my eyes
Until
His immaturity showered
Fundamentals I had never learnt.

Big I was no doubt
Until
I was bullied by his tininess.

I was beaten, may be bruised,
By him,
Yet
The pain became pleasure.

Was made to run, to jump,
Panting with an over-pumping aged heart.
Yet
Breathlessness transformed to joyfulness.

Big, though I was, was made to
Crawl, horse-ape, and do
Monkey tricks,
Yet,
Ashamedness was uprooted from my thoughts.

Was I a toy to be played with,
So that I can be toyed with?
Was I a boxer’s punch bag,
To never complain of hits I take.
No.
A playmate, a friend,
Sometimes a jester, a clown,
Never a threatening adult,
Or a domineering egoist.
Purified by his innocence,
Guarded by his untainted love,
Enveloped with his glee ,
Melted by his cool smile.

Me and my grandson,
Or justly,
Grandson and me,
Linked by the bridge,
That age and time will further strengthen,
Weather and weight can never wither,
The one that is called
The Generation Bridge.