Is it spring Grandpa Can we begin The days are still short and the light is sharp like lemon juice But here and there green spears have pierced the soil Soon there will be daffodils Snuggled deep in my hat and scarf I tramp in Grandpa’s footsteps to the vegetable patch at the garden’s end
I try to dig but the ground’s too hard It’s no use Grandpa Everything’s dead He chuckles and his eyes are full of summer It’s only sleeping Billy Come and see
