While dusting shelves, I chance
Upon an old album,
From forty years ago, which we'd figured was lost.

I flip through the pages,
Bearing tales I'd not heard,
And see my dad, then all of four, covered in dirt.

"Grandma! Grandpa!", I call,
And take the book downstairs.
Of all the tales of theirs, I had to hear out these.

I fetch biscuits and tea,
Set them on the teapoy,
And drag them there, because it now was story-time!