My Grandma had a walking stick
and before long, she had two,
she was always losing it around the house
where it was – she hadn’t a clue.
She would lean it against the table
or hook it on the door,
it was always tripping us up
when it fell onto the floor.
She only really used it
when she went out into town,
or at home to point to things
she needed help with to get down.
It was meant to help her get about
as her balance wasn’t so good,
but every time I saw her…
it wasn’t with her where she stood.
We were always telling her off
in a loving, caring way
to always have her stick with her,
“But it’s a nuisance” she would say.
She always made us laugh,
moaning about “that stupid thing”
and how the only way she’d find it
would be at the end of a piece of string.