He heard her call out
"The family are coming"
He was gardening
No that was not true
He uttered a blasphemy
Sitting in the shed
His short quiet time
Reading Sunday newspaper
Would now be ruined
Whole plague of monkeys
Would invade and take over
Keeping him awake
No siesta now
Two children running around
And one in her pram
She was born last year
Sweet favorite of his wife
Her name Abigail
He cleared the deck first
Old ones would want water
Put sprinkler on lawn
They arrived on time
He was given a new job
As baby was crying
He took her for a walk
By the rustling Aspen trees
Not that far away
She looked up at him
As he smiled and talked to her
Slowly fell asleep
He still chatted on
Of how beautiful she was
Shed a loving tear
He made his way home
Drying his eyes as he came
For his cup of tea
Image found at www.mirror.co.uk
Abigail - beauty...a peaceful stroll away together...no wonder they're both smiling :)
ReplyDeleteEnjoy her now before she joins the monkeys! A delightful poem.
ReplyDeleteI have to put up with 34 little monkeys every day and one is called Abigail so I know what she'll be like in 8 years time!
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like this was well worth having his short quiet time ruined for!!
ReplyDeleteI always have to stop myself to make time, after dismissing the imposition, for the joy of grandchildren. Randy
ReplyDeleteAlthough grandchildren often leave me exhausted, their antics, words and thoughts, live long in memory, longer than most...
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
Our grandparents used to call us monkeys a lot...it's all part of the relationship between young and old.
ReplyDeleteOh, the disturbances that wee ones sometimes make!
ReplyDeleteAnother Baja Whirl