Tor

Tor

Poorly Grandad 😢

This is a poem I wrote when my dad was seriously ill and our eldest was only little. 💗



“Grandad is poorly,” said Mummy one day.

“What do you mean? Can he still play?”

"He can’t play as hard as he has done before,
He can’t roll around playing rough on the floor.
If he needs sleep, or is too tired to play,
We’ll come again on a different day.

But he’s still your Grandad despite all this,
And loves to give you a hug and a kiss.

He can’t fit his shoes on his two puffy feet,
He’s been wearing his slippers out in the street.
His face looks quite pale, his knees are both sore;
He can’t even run around anymore.

But he’s still your Grandad despite all this,
And loves to give you a hug and a kiss.

The doctors have given him lots of pills
To try to help him from feeling so ill.
Your cute little face will do him good,
You always brighten up his mood.

He’s still your Grandad despite all this,
And loves to give you a hug and a kiss.
So go and sit on your Grandad’s knee

And tell him you love him enormously."

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