With sport on the telly, a match on the air,
Wolves in his heart (though a red? — we won’t dare).
A dart in his hand, a laugh on his face,
He made every room a brighter place.
Inventor of games, of crisp-packet toys,
He thrived in the chaos of grandchildren's noise.
A storyteller, joker, forever so wise,
A sparkle of mischief lived in his eyes.
Two little boys with hearts full of care,
Called him Grandad with the white hair.
Aiden and Louie adored him so true,
Rides on his walker, they both formed a queue.
From garden to armchair, memories stay,
Loved by us all in his own special way.
“I can, I will, I shall,” he’d say true —
Grandad, we’ll always be so proud of you.
Love you Grandad.
Alex and the boys
Alex Corbett
27/08/2025
