Grandpa why do cows have horns?
Grandpa why is my book torn.?
Its grandpa this and grandpa that
Grandpa why are cats called cats.?
They say asking questions is part of learning
But how my poor old bones are yearning
For a newspaper and a quiet nap
When someone sky dives into my lap.
I’m with my granddaughters three and four
That’s why I’m sitting on the floor
My clothes are crumpled full of creases my nervous system shot to pieces.
I’ve been playing pirates it seems all day and ner a chance to sail away.
The floors the sea the land the mat the dreaded sea serpent’s called The Cat.
‘Grandpa you’re not playing right’
I complain this table cave’s too tight.
‘You must pull your knees up just like me because your elbow’s in the sea.’
I scoop up legs with arms and wrists like some music hall contortionist.
At last relief as mummy calls its bath time girls for one and all.
I relax and sit and watch the rain form deltas on the window pain.
An awful day some will say but to me it’s been a wondrous day.
I doze and wake and think I’ve died as through half open lids I spied
Two angels standing by my chair – pyjamard and with crinkled hair,
I think they’ve been there for a while waiting for a little smile.
Grandpa – just one story please, at least I won’t be on my knees
They snuggle up one either side with eyes and minds all open wide.
The smell of children freshly scrubbed beats any gourmet dining club.
Lord let me keep this Halcion day, please never let it go away,
Sorry Lord no more time to pray, I have to go I’m off to play.


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