Grandad's Blooming Boat Poem by Mary Champion
Grandad's Blooming Boat
My grandad had a boat,
a boat that wouldn't float,
a rowing boat as old in years as him.
Though it was worn and scarred,
he'd parked it in the yard
and planted it with flowers in the Spring.
When they were all in bloom
and released their sweet perfume,
my grandma stopped complaining, I recall.
She said, 'this blooming boat
has surely won my vote.'
So, grandad had the last laugh after all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 12:50:54 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
