Risk 2 Draft #2

my grandfather lays on the couch
a benign Mr Toad after a full lunch
hands supporting his round clasped below his belly
watching sunbeams play 
in the space between us

I stand, face frozen in a smile
(he calls me His Smiley),
that becomes painful to hold
yet I am fearful of it slipping
fearful of him
forgetting he will forget me
without its reminder

he recites Wordsworth
in the burr of his mother country
I fall into the thrall of his words stars
that twinkle on milky way

I sing, You are my Sunshine
(too young to know yet to learn I can't carry a tune)
his moustache bristles into a smile,
his eyes laugh, wrinkles 
radiating as sparkling waves
  
before resuming his verse
where his heart dances
and my smile relaxes 
into its rightful place