Today I met a lady
whose grandfather used to own a pig farm.
Her eyes were the size of snouts
when she recounted the moment a sow
stood on her then toddler toes.
It’s OK now though.
She was never allowed to ride the pigs
but she appreciated the question.
She can never remember how many pigs
he had but was sure it was Never enough.
I don’t know my son very well yet,
but I think he has the eyes of someone
who would want to ride a pig.
Or at least the smile of a shop assistant
happy to tell a customer
his 70-year-old Pops likes drum and bass.
© Carl Burkitt 2020