I write little rhymes and stories for my grandchildren, which of course they never see! I'm thinking of doing illustrations to accompany them. Not in
pursuit of anything, just something for them to remember me by. I wrote this little poem the other day and every detail in it is true.
The old man and boy, silhouettes on a hill
Overlooking the river, by the old paper mill
The old man tells stories, and truths from the past
And silly adventures, to make the boy laugh
The boy smiles and says, grandad, tell me again
That story you told where, the boy has my name
And the old man smiles back, at those innocent eyes
And somehow he too, has that feeling inside
He says didn't I tell you, there's much more to it
Just wait till you hear, this very last bit
And a thrilling adventure begins to unfold
As the sun gently fades from yellow to gold
And the path by the river is an old railway line
Near the small private road with the no entry sign
Past the old gaswork door painted pillar box red
To the house on the corner for supper and bed
edit on 104123412023-10-23T05:41:38-05:00202310 by Mendix because: (no reason given)