The Emerging Artist and I spend two days a week looking after our granddaughter. How could I not dedicate at least one November Verse to her?
November verse 2: Grandfatherhood
Someone said, 'A grandchild coming?
You'll turn into a love-sick dolt.
Like taxes, death and leaky plumbing,
you can't avoid this lightning bolt.'
I smiled politely, thinking, 'Maybe ...'
Then Rubes was born, a lovely baby
like all babies, sweet enough
but not to shake me by the scruff.
Until at her first birthday picnic
she crawled to me and turned around
and leaned into me.
______________________I was owned.
At two, no longer grand-love sceptic,
I'm Poppa, bound, besotted-wise
to snot nose, scraped knees, solemn eyes.
I didn’t manage to include how much said granddaughter enjoys my kookaburra imitation, and how I’ll do it on repeat demand well beyond hoarseness.