I love to go to Grampa's house.
He lives far, far away.
It's hard to sit still in the car
and it takes us two whole days.
My Grampa's fun is different.
He doesn't run and play.
But grampa's fun is special fun
and I love him best that way.
My Grampa tells me stories
when I sit on his knee
about the games and things he did
when he was small like me.
Sometimes he takes me fishin'
in a boat out on the lake.
We sing songs and then I giggle
at the bird sounds Grampa makes.
My grampa knows the names of things
like trees and plants and such.
He shares the stuff he knows with me
and I love him, oh so much.
I wish Grampa lived next door to me.
he lives so far away...
But I love to go to Grampa's house
though it takes us two whole days.
C.J. Heck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/grampa-s-house-children/
