When I started nursery school,

   My granddad did as well,

But Granddad calls it “Day Centre”

   And says it’s really swell.


He’s learnt to paint and play the flute.

    He does exercise and dance.

He’s even learnt some words in French

     And had a holiday in France.


The oldies in my granddad’s class

    Can shout and answer back.

They are not told what things to eat

     So can take unhealthy snacks.


I love to hear what Granddad’s done.

    Each day we swap our news.

He tells me that he’s not told off,

    Although he has a snooze.


The problem is that very soon

     I’ll move to the big school,

Where I’ll be given homework,

    Which I think is rather cruel.


On the other hand my granddad

    Will continue having fun.

He can choose to go to Day Centre

   Or sit out in the sun.


Copyright on all my poems

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