Granny's Tree-Climbing - Ruskin Bond

Granny's Tree-Climbing by Ruskin Bond

My grandmother was a genius. You'd like to know why?

Because she could climb trees. Spreading or high, She'd be up their branches in a trice. And mind you,

When last she climbed a tree, she was sixty-two.

Ever since childhood, she'd had this gift For being happier in a tree than in a lift;

And though, as years went by, she would be told That climbing trees should stop when one grew old

And that growing old should be gone about gracefully

She'd laugh and say, 'Well, I'll grow old disgracefully.

I can do it better.' And we had to agree;

For in all the garden there wasn't a tree She hadn't been up, at one time or another (Having learned to climb from a loving brother When she was six) but it was feared by all That one day she'd have a terrible fall.

The outcome was different; while we were in town

She climbed a tree and couldn't come down!

We went to the rescue, and helped her descend A doctor took Granny's temperature and said,

'I strongly recommend a quiet week in bed.' We sighed with relief and tucked her up well.

Poor Granny! For her, it was more like a season in hell.

Confined to her bedroom, while every breeze Whispered of summer and dancing leaves.

But she held her peace till she felt stronger Then sat up and said, 'I'll lie here no longer!' And she called for my father and told him undaunted

That a house in a treetop was what she now wanted.

My dad knew his duties. He said, 'That's all right You'll have what you want, dear, I'll start work tonight.'

With my expert assistance, he soon finished the chore:

Made her a tree house with windows and a door.

So Granny moved up, and now every day I climb to her room with glasses and a tray.

She sits there in state and drinks mocktails with me,

Upholding her right to reside in a tree.

Poems are green and Poetry is mean.
-Poetry Beast
 
Please accept my endless gratitude,
I'm tickled pink,
You're a gift!
Thank you for your time and attention.
It's a blessing you've stopped to observe and listen.


ADDITIONAL INFO: @thebaldheadedpoet | Linktree

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

Granny's Tree Climbing by Ruskin Bond. My grandmother was a genius. You'd like to know why? Because she could climb trees, spreading or high. She'd be of their branches in a trice. And mind you, when last she climbed a tree, she was 62. Ever since childhood, she'd had this gift for being happier in a tree than in a lift. And though as years went by, she would be told that climbing trees should stop when one grew old, and that growing old should be gone about gracefully. She'd laugh and say, Well, I'll grow old disgracefully. I can do it better. And we had to agree. For in all the garden there wasn't a tree she hadn't been up. At one time or another, haven't learned to climb from a loving brother when she was six. But it was feared by all that one day she'd have a terrible fall. The outcome was different while we were in town. She climbed a tree and couldn't come down. We went to the rescue and helped her descend. A doctor took Granny's temperature and said, I strongly recommend a quiet week in bed. We sighed with relief and tucked her up well. Poor Granny, for her, it was more like a season in hell. Confined to her bedroom while every breeze whispered of summer and dancing leaves. But she held her peace till she felt stronger, then sat up and said, I'll lie here no longer. And she called for my father and told him undaunted that a house in a treetop was what she now wanted. My dad knew his duties. He said, That's alright, you'll have what you want, dear. I'll start work tonight. With my expert assistance, he soon finished the chore, made her a tree house with windows and a door. So Granny moved up, and now every day I climb to her room with glasses and a tray. She sits there in state and drinks mocktails with me, upholding her right to reside in a tree.