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Poem

Granddads slippers started to wear,
And then tear,
Until more than a stitch here,
And stitch there,
Would be required, or a new pair,
Needed by the end of the year.
A suitable needle and thread did appear,
And for another year did sit there,
Maybe next year,
I will do the repair,
And another year did disappear,
Without use of needle and thread to repair,
Then the day came,
Shall we put them in the bin out there,
I said no fair,
And searching for needle and thread became a good idea,
Once found under there,
A plan to repair ,
Was whispered in my ear from somewhere,
Not sure where,
First the crater in the toe to work out how to repair,
A thought did appear,
For a bridge to be built there,
What about a suitable piece of torn cloth from that box over there,
To pull the sides into shape to help hide the wear,
Now for the next repair,
Another thought did appear,
Use the holes that are already there,
And now the other slipper and we are finished here,
Oh what a clever grandad I am,
With my slippers now again fit to wear.
For many a year,
Giving my family a chance to eat humble pie here,
As they never thought I could repair,
What they sought to put in the bin out there.
Hooray for grandads everywhere.

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