Grandpa made your rocking horse
with loving hands and sweat.
You were such a little man
and thought it was your pet
With just a little help
you'd climb upon it's back.
You couldn't even reach the pegs
but still you had the knack.
Crickety crick, crickety crick
you'd rock the horse with glee
It never really mattered
that it wasn't pedigree
This poem is nothing other then 'Precious' not perhaps unlike the child for him this horse was crafted.~~~~marci.xo
A sweet memory, I'll bet! This is wonderful and sweet. I love it!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem filled with love. A connection between generations. My father gave my son a rocking horse also. Good memories. Well written.