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  • The BFG
    (Big Friendly Granddad)

    I wonder what it's like to have a Granddad.
    It's been ticking in my mind.
    The thought of what this little girl's missing.
    What's long been left behind.
    I have a mother, a father and a Grandma too
    But what I really wonder
    Is what it's like to have a granddad
    And how it felt for you.

    Is it just like in the movies?
    Is he inspiring and regal and brave?
    It is these things that I'm missing.
    Those feelings that I deeply crave.
    Did he ever sit you on his knee
    All tender and loving and warm?
    Or did he always tell you stories
    Of his days back in the war?

    Does he read to you 'til you go to sleep,
    Or need your help to get around?
    Did he ever push back the hair from your face
    Or help you up from off the ground?
    Does he tell you to come back dirty and green
    And get out into the wild?
    Do he whisper to you that you're his favourite?
    (Even though you're his only grandchild.)

    Has he ever taken you to his garden
    Of Mystical Magical DREAMS?
    The place where he works with his big bare hands
    Growing tomatoes and potatoes and runner beans?
    I hear my Granddad was a fine old chap.
    He served well in a world war.
    He snuck around the German folk
    And brought stories back that would have you listen in awe.

    My other Gramps was made of silver lights.
    He made people dance when the music played.
    He ran the first nightclubs in Birmingham
    And he's still remembered to this day.
    I never knew my Granddads really.
    One had gone before I could walk.
    The other left us some years later
    But we never really talked.

    I feel it in my heart, my soul
    That a girl like me doesn't know
    What it feels like to have that guiding light
    From the elder who helps us grow.
    Maybe it's just a dream in my head
    And my ideals aren't particularly true.
    But if I were to have a granted wish
    I would wish for my own Granddad, it's true!

    He would tell me tales and read to me.
    He'd show me books, old and new.
    He'd teach me when to sow them seeds
    And Together we'd watch them bloom.
    I'd take him to Golden Acre Park
    or up The Chevin, just him and I.
    Grandpops and Melly, Hand-in-hand
    Just chillin' beneath the Yorkshire sky.


    Written: 26th July 2016
    Photo: Sunset on Otley Chevin, West Yorkshire.
    Summer 2016.
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