My Grampa and me, we’re a pair, it is true,
And when we’re together there’s lots we can do,
Sometimes we go fishing, sometimes weed the yard,
We really have fun or we work really hard,
He says that those things he is teaching to me,
Are summed in one word: Responsibility!
One day while we two were just lying around,
A spider crawled over to him, there on the ground,
And took a big bite out of Grampa’s strong arm,
Grampa jumped up and was filled with alarm,
I laughed and said, “Grampa, you’re fine, I am sure!
“That spider’s not toxic. Your life is secure!”
“You don’t understand, Son, just what is at stake,
“I’m for being responsible, make no mistake,
“But this sense of duty’s much more than I’d planned…
“At my age I can’t handle becoming Spiderman!”
Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try and make the week begin
With pleasant thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
Have crafted poems for you to see,
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
We're talking 'tomatoes'. From home or store-bought...
Even heroes get old. Well written poem, and thanks for the new theme.
ReplyDeleteAnother clever poem, Diane. I love your stories. What? - Tomatoes? This is setting the bar really high. Where is my Harry Potter Thinking Hat?
ReplyDeleteSo cute! And ouch, poor Grandpa. Spider bites hurt!
ReplyDeleteWonderful! Yes, i don't want quite that much responsibility, either.
ReplyDelete