Granny's house, tall and dark,
Down the road from Pond and Park.
Walls as high as you can see,
Too steep the stairs for little me.
Grandpa's clock ticks very loud.
Pendulum swinging side to side.
Little glass door for him to open.
Little brass key to wind it up then.
Granny's cat, yellow and broad,
Sitting guard at garden door.
Cunning is his silent stare,
To pass him, I do not dare.
Roses bloom upon the wall
That lays beyond the garden door.
Down the yard fruit trees grow.
Hidden lane behind the hedgerow.
Granny's lap, large and soft.
Fireplace crackling, bright and hot.
Smoke drifting up from Grandpa's pipe.
Curled up quietly in the evening light.