A poem about my granny.
Old Nanny Jean
Never once been mean,
She loves to water flowers,
It’s like they give her super powers.
Strings and things
She teases when I’m about to leave.
On the phone she talks about stuff I don’t believe.
Disgusting, squishy yoghurt she tries to feed me,
Some of it looks weird,
Just like my grandpa’s beard.
A smile would be waiting
It is warm and inviting,
Just like a bed.
She sometimes calls us the wrong name.
“Who’s that?” I say.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day!”
When all is silent (which is never)
She bores all of us by talking about the weather!
She tells us a lot of stories,
They seem very creepy.
Like abandoned homes
And moving garden gnomes.
When she’s gone it wont be the same,
But we will always have her in our picture frame.
By Abijah (Year 6)