An Ode to Grandparents at Christmas

All over the country

Grandparents are hosting

They’re minding the baby

Whilst turkeys are roasting.

They’re breaking up fights

Or wrapping up gifts 

Working through the nights

In bleary-eyed shifts.

They are relentlessly kind

And sighs are supressed 

As they pretend they don’t mind 

That you’ve fully regressed.

They cook, clean and pour

Generous glugs of sloe gin 

And what is more

They let you lay in. 

So let’s raise a glass

And mark with celebration

The marvellous kindness.

Of the grandparent generation. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s