John Carter Brown

Today I saw my Grandson
His head was in a muddle
He messed around until he slipped
And fell into a puddle;
I picked him up and scolded him
And then I wiped his face
He offered his apologies
Which put me in my place.

With misted eyes and stifled sighs
I listened to his pleas
This scruffy little tearaway
With grazed and grubby knees;
With holes in sweater-elbows
(And inevitably, shoes)
With limitless endurance
And temper without fuse.

I stood and simply wondered
What went on in his head,
His scatter-brained remarks
And all the crazy things he said;
Then off he trotted, scampering,
And jumping like a flea,
Today I saw my Grandson,
And wished that I was he.

(Written Dec 2012)