I have a grandpa,

a sort of a grandpa.

Not really a grandpa,

if you know what I mean.

He likes to tell stories

or read funny poems;

changing his voice,

which makes it all real.

 

He speaks of nice dragons

or wee frightened monsters;

sometimes creepy crawlies,

mice, slugs or fast snails.

He has ones about surgers.

What ever a “surger” is.

Ghosts, whales, mammoths,

wasps, dogs and bees.

 

We sit in a hammock;

that swings in the garden

and the words make pictures

in my head like TV.

It’s nice to have someone

who likes to tell stories

about all kinds of things

to children like me.

 
 

David Garlick, England, 1997