A grandchild is...... A pair of loving arms, a dear reminder of the baby charms Of your own children, long, so long ago. A grandchild is.... A pair of pleading eyes, a hand that leads you to the biscuit tin, The disappointment when there's nothing in , for biscuits disappear Like winters snow kissed by sun.... And Grans had better keep their aprons on. A grandchild is.... Splashes of bright red sauce that spilled from pies, Broken flower heads and toys strewn on the floor, And yellow yolk stuck to a tablecloth, And laughing faces peeping round the door. A grandchild is.... an unexpected call to baby-sit whilst Mum and Dad go out, You live your life again without a doubt...and love it all. A grandchild is.... A pair of knittong needles dug from a drawer, and clicking once again, Knitting tiny coats and baby bootees, whilst thoughts go winging back down memory lane. A grandchild is....A present straight from god; you hear the angel Gabriel blow his horn, For when those tiny fingers clasp your own, you are re-born; Then you know that life is worth the tears, The anxious moments and nagging fears; Nothing more wonderful could ever be, Than children's children clustered around your knee.... God's precious gifts, to Dad and me. Emu's grandaughter and great grand son |