Grandfather Gordon
always scratching his wooden leg
insists 'It itches! '
always a different explanation
how he lost the leg
enough to fill a book
Grandfather Gordon
scratching the air
where his leg should be
Grandfather Gordon's
wooden leg now
a tommy gun...a sword...a unicorn's horn
'Give me me leg...
...ya daft wee buggers! '
begging for his leg back
Grandfather Gordon's gone
his wooden leg lives on
dusty in a corner
I stroke his leg
remembering him
it itches in my heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem