Grandad’s Lost His Forgetter

This poem is looking at dementia from a small boy’s perspective.

Grandad’s Lost His Forgetter

My Grandad’s lost his forgetter, well it’s what he says to me.
He tells me its gone walkabouts, I wonder where can it be?
It’s making him so sad now and my grandma feels sad too.
If you see it on your travels, you know just what to do!

My Grandad’s forgetter is precious, it’s more valuable than gold.
It contains all of his memories and the stories that he’s told.
You see, he calls me Arthur but my name is really Neil,
he calls my sister Dorothy, but her real name is Lucille.

I’ve checked beneath the sofa and looked inside the shed,
no sign of Grandad’s forgetter underneath their double bed.
I’ve even told my teacher to have a look around,
and to phone my mummy straight away if his forgetter is found.

If we can’t find the forgetter, I’ll get a new one soon.
I’ll save up all my money from tidying my room.
Lucille says she’ll help me to get one from the store,
we want the best on offer, with apps and things galore.

Mummy tells us Grandad’s perfect, he’s greatest man on earth,
and his forgetter is a nuisance, more trouble than it’s worth.
When sitting on my Grandad’s knee I feel like Wolverine,
Grandad’s just like Superman, the best there’s has been !

Teresa Harrison-Best