Still Kicking.

 “How are you?”

 “Still kicking”

Blue trousers, blue shirt, grey patterned jumper,

A timeless style (apparently),

A man of memories,

He has looked the same my whole life,

I wake him from his nap.

A broad grin on the friendliest face,

” Well hello.. “

“ How are you? “

” Still Kicking “

We chat about our days,

We laugh at what you shouldn’t say,

You’re keeping out of trouble,

I’m causing no mischief,

Oh you and your particular ways.

” How are you? “

” Still Kicking “

We gossip and remember,

Have a grumble and a moan,

We’ve grown from a girl and her grandad,

Learning and playing,

To a girl and her friend,

Oh how I never wanted your funny stories to end.

” How are you? “

” Still Kicking “

Theres no doubt that your a fighter,

I’m sure theres noone who doesn’t know,

You’ve been shot in the leg,

Who shot the bugler!

How did that song go…?

” How are you? “

” Still kicking “

Your teeth are like stars,

They come out at night,

Ohhh –  trouble!

A secret handshake,

With a pound in your hand,

“ Don’t tell your mum! “

I would hold on so tight.

” How are you? “

” Still kicking “

Your breathing is slow,

in…. out…

One fine day, in the middle of the night,

You lay down to flight,

There is one last thing to say,

Before you have your own way,

Love you,

God bless.

“ How are you? ”

Still.

 

 

 

 

 

Written by myself. In loving memory of my Grandad Butcher.

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