To my father the most important
thing is the armchair, but it's not.
My sisters say its the dresser
and the table, but its not.
My mother thinks it has to be
the cooker, and she is close.
My brother says - where would
we be without the windows?
But I know its the radio. The radio
high up there on the green shelf.
Granny says – far too much noise
And reaching up she turns it off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'm part Irish and the poem reminded me of my Grand Dad