Grandson Poem by Jerry Behr Number 2

When he cries he sounds like the fire
brigade, police and the ambulance
all combined going to an emergency.
Sending my emotions reeling,
all because he is going through teething.

My missus gets up and quells my grandson
and sees to his needs, nappy changes, wiping
him while I bury my head in the pillow, it’s
so early in the morning in fact two thirty;
after that she has to see if he is thirsty.

Dawn….six thirty…..the babbling and
squealing starts and the routine starts all
over again as at two thirty. My missus has to
do it all because I’m lame
on crutches that support my frame.

At breakfast curious thing, my grandson
starts to babble and making trumpeting
noises. So big toughie me from the dole
queues is also going goo-go-gagaa,
leelee, leelee lullu lullu lalaa, lalaa.

Michael gives a bit of a smile before he
clutches his formula bottle while I have my
breakfast. He doesn’t seem to want to
cooperate, spluttering, wringing
his little hands on his bib whingeing.

After Janet settled Michael down and put
him in the bounce’n net, grandpa crouched
down and started to whistle like a birdie.
Michael gave a great smile of enjoyment
with laughing eyes with enthrallment.

I stopped my whistling; Michael seemed
surprised and started to contort his little face
as if to ask what happed to the birdie.
I realized I had to bring birdie back,
I had to keep whistling and stay on track.