When I grow up I want to be a grandmother,

The little girl declares.

A grandmother? the teacher asks,

Her classmates a sea of stares.

 

Yes, the little girl replies,

Can you think of anything more divine?

Grandmothers have secrets,

Sewed deep in their design.

 

What sort of secrets?’ the boy asks,

Turning to her now,

Yes tell us please, the others join,

We want to know, what and how?

 

Okay then, the girl begins,

Here’s one just for a start,

Have you ever noticed that time slows down,

Once your parents have depart.

 

Grandmothers can take a clock,

That was ordinary just before,

And make the hands crawl around,

So there’s always five minutes more.

 

And have you seen how average trees,

Become jungles of the wild?

Grandmothers can find a forest dweller,

To play with every child.

 

Grandmothers don’t go for walks,

There’s no adventure there,

Grandmothers go on treasure hunts,

Where precious jewels lay bare.

 

Did you know the dress up box,

Is a portal to their magic world?

Where princesses talk to animals,

And kings rule with cloaks unfurled.

 

But perhaps the most important thing,

That sets a grandmother apart,

Is that whenever you are with her,

You feel a fullness in your heart.

 

Because parents have the biggest job,

Loving us all the time,

Grandmothers patch those little holes,

With their secret needle and twine.

 

How do you know all of this?

The teacher asks in wonder.

Because, the girl replies, my grandmother was Marsie,

Gentle as a flame, braver than thunder.

 

I want to be a grandmother when I grow up.

 

Eliza xx