They changed as you read; narrowed for villains, opened wide for victims and frowned for determined heroes.
You made us giggle by waggling your glasses and eyebrows.
You blinked as you marched us on sunny fossil-hunts, you peered into books and squinted at handicrafts you’d start but never finish.
Your eyes grew tired, old. One day, your eyes smiled love as we said goodbye but two days later, though they blinked, you were no longer there. Then they closed forever.
But I will only remember your eyes, sparkling as you told stories, bringing the characters alive, twinkling with love.
Words and photograph copyright 2017 by Paula Harmon. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission
6 thoughts on “My Father’s Eyes”
This feels bittersweet. I love the ways his eyes smile!
They did – he had lovely smiley eyes. They were mostly stuck in a book though so hard to find a photo!
Beautiful memories of being read to by someone who loves you. The best kind of storyteller.
Thank you. He really was.
I remember his twinkly brown eyes full of mischief and life. Expressive as you say.
Yes they were x