Mother stood attentive Blossom knelt beside her bed
A startling conversation now in store,
Blossom listed her activities in everything she said
While Father watched her smiling from the door

Blossom blessed her friends and animals and sundry others too
And Mom and Dad were mentioned in conclusion
The sunny day, the playground and the neighbours that she knew
Her earnestness for certain no illusion

In the middle of the effort Blossom paused to rest awhile
Her parents waited patient by her bed,
But the sentence then to follow really made her parents smile,
Had they really heard what little Blossom said?

“Tomorrow send me Grampie, ‘cause I want to bake him soon
And put him in the oven till he cooks!”
She recited how she’d mix him and she’d stir him with a spoon
Her parents swapped some hasty startled looks!

When our Blossom had quite finished and was tucked up for the night
Her Mother then repeated what she’d said;
Would she really bake her Grandpa? It would give him such a fright!
She waited the reply with certain dread

“Oh! Grampie likes to play with me, we play the baking game
He pretends to be the flour in the pan
And when I want the baking stuff I call the flour’s name
And then I look to see which way he ran!”

Then after I have found him I will lead him to the range
And he shouts out “Don’t you make a cake of me!”
And we jump and shout with laughter ‘cause he looks so very strange
He pretends that he’s escaping up a tree

Blossom’s Mom breaks out in laughter for it surely is relief
Knowing Grampie won’t be baked into a cake
For she really doesn’t wish to have her father come to grief
The result would be quite more than she could take

But now she knew the reason for her girl’s unusual prayer
Mom reflected on a time so long before
For she had played her childish games her father often there,
Those precious moments there forever more

“© Copyright Ian Grice 2011, all rights reserved”

This poem is dedicated to my Granddaughter Winter
who prayed for her Guardian Angel to deliver
me (her Grampie) to her so she could “bake” me in her toy oven.
I guess she remembered fondly our baking game on the last visit
to see her in the US. These are the things pleasant memories
are made of.