Just as lemons grow on Grandma’s tree,
Diggers, dumpers, cranes and trains multiply in his room.

Just as rain falls from the sky onto his grubby grabby hands
Water arcs endlessly from the hose to fill his leaking rubbish truck.

One spoon will never make a lunch.
He takes two fat handfuls of spoons to the table.

He big-eyes presents; anything in tins, boxes, envelopes.
Mama, Dada, and Santa are his best-loved people.

Will this natural beneficence ever cease?
No worries. Grandma is preparing for it.

She keeps old wrapping paper in a box for re-use.
Watch how she spoons left-over food into pottles,
And presses their lipid lips closed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s