The Welsh Dragon

The dragon lies sleeping,
His body slouched like a small mountain,
He awakes
And slinks up the hillside,
To stand majestically, guarding.

His body is a scarlet steam engine,
Glistening in the sunlight,
His legs are thick tree trunks covered in blood,
His eyes are two sparkling lakes,
Two smouldering volcanoes for nostrils.

Breathing fire as he signals,
As he stands on the boarder ,
As a warning to all enemies,
Guarding and protecting his country.

My Grandad

All the time he's writing poems,
Reading newspapers,
And watching football,
Or cricket.

My Grandads cheeks,
Are like small hedgehogs,
And his hair is like a pale yellow mop head.

My Grandad tells me,
About world war II,
Down in the mines,
And out on the sea.

My Grandads legs,
Are all wibbly wobbly,
He can't go any where,
Without his stick.