My boy loves his mother’s mother
Misses her when she’s not about
She dotes on him, that’s only proper
Days she’s busy, he wears a pout
Somedays they chase dogs in the park
Throwing balls, sneaking ice-creams
Other days they ride balloons in the dark
And whisper secrets learnt in dreams

My boy never tires tending the garden
Snipping, shearing and brushing away
If he knocks your drink, he’ll beg your pardon
Then clip clop around and bray
Together they’re growing strawberries
Reading stories, catching sunbeams
The games they play always varies
Singing loudly, sticks skimming streams

My boy loves his mother’s mother
Loves to sit and have afternoon tea
She’s all his, but now he’s a big brother
And soon their picnics will be for three