Grandad land is a place like heaven
Where one can disappear
Shut out all the daily noises
A place granddad holds so dear
Where women talk in silent voices
And the kids are rarely seen
We are spared the great indignity
Of being called geriatric, senile, or unclean
It is a place that time can pass
So blissful, serene and quiet
Away from the nagging and the incessant chat
And any impending family riot
The world where Rainbows shine every day
That wonderful place only he can know
So when you see Grandad looking vacant in a chair
That’s where he is, so now you know
The Greenhouse or Garden Shed
His main place of refuge when
He needs some space to be alone
In peace and tranquillity once again
He has selected hearing
For those moments which he cares for less
And occasionally you have to wonder
What planet he’s on I guess
But he will always still be Grandad
The one who will always care
As he smokes his fag and sits and dreams
In his old comfy chair
So spare a thought next time you see
That he’s drifted into his own world to get inner peace
Because when he awakes he will always say
What, when, who of course I was listening, wonders will never cease