Finally, in the closing days of the competition, we've had a poem about a grandfather and what an adorable Grandad he sound.
This poem I wrote about Grandad and his truck (he called it Humphrey), I love to go with him on small trips. He travels through the small bush towns and cities delivering loads. I love all the sights and sounds inside and out of the truck, as you can see in this poem.
Alongside Grandad in his semi,
Wheeling through the Aussie outback,
Along the corrugated roads,
Through the shimmering heat waves.
Grandad’s cheerful whistling,
His rough steady hands,
Ant mounds sailing in the waving, dry grass,
Towering gums and meandering creeks.
Grey nomads trundle past
Grandad’s heavy ladened truck,
His loud horn blasts at lazing cows,
Dozing on the road.
Dark, enveloping bunk,
I fall asleep to the rhythm,
In Grandad’s semi.
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