Grandpa Ben's Mysterious Notebook

My very mysterious Grandpa Ben

brought magic to our lives one day.

He travelled a long way to see us,

carrying only a small black notebook.

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A man of few words was my Grandpa,

who discovered the magic in the world.

His quiet thoughts would be transformed

into vibrant sketches in his Moleskine notebook.

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When he arrived here, he took one look

at our fading home on Stand High Hill.

There barely stood my mother and I,

our skins smudged with every day dirt.

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Out from his pocket, journeyed his notebook,

brightly glistening in the glow of the sun.

A hand to sweaty brow, my Grandpa flicked

through the pages before he began to draw.

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A soft melody found its light, breezy tune,

accompanying my Grandpa as he drew.

The music had a deeply mysterious tone,

suggesting a secret world to be roamed.

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Words drifted out from the black notebook,

circling us and whispering a single message:

“A new world awaits you to go and explore

beyond the fatigue of your small four walls.”

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Looking over my shoulder, I took note

of the crumbling wooden home we lived in.

A home my mother once built by hand,

while many days and nights passed us by.

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Once the house was built, I had grown tall,

my stomach always rumbling with hunger.

I was a son my mother struggled to feed,

poor and penniless in our home on the hill.

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The soft melody gently faded away,

leaving my Grandpa staring at the page.

A small smile crept upon his calm face,

as he viewed the picture that he’d drawn.

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Placing the notebook on leaf littered grass,

my Grandpa waved us closer to him.

Starving and exhausted, I was keen to see

what brand new world had been created.

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It was a beautiful drawing of a pelican bird,

perched on top of the pier’s rope railing.

Mother and I walked to that pier very often,

to hunt for fish at the lake for our dinner.

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My mother grabbed hold of my small hand

and we stepped together onto the notebook.

We entered into the world of Grandpa’s drawing

and all the adventures it would bring…

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We landed outside at the end of the pier,

huddling together to warm ourselves.

My mother stared in awe at the giant pelican,

perched on top of the pier’s rope railing.

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The pelican fluttered its very large wings

and stared at us with deep thinking eyes.

“Hop on my back for a big surprise!”

The pelican’s voice sounded carefree.

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I helped my mother onto the pelican’s back

and joined her seated by her side.

The pelican began to flap its wings:

“Hold on now, we will fly high!”

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Launching itself up into the air,

the pelican giggled with playful glee:

“Grab my feathers and hold tightly,

while my wings play their tune.”

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A merry tune unravelled its journey,

creating large waves of water in the air.

One wave brought the gift of a fish,

which flapped its small fins merrily.

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The fish told us stories of the air wave,

which let her see the sun of day.

The air wave let the fish tour the sky,

which she floated across day and night.

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In the sky’s vastness the fish could see

sky coral on which she could feast.

It was a different coral every day,

depending on the colour of light rays.

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The fish offered some coral to us,

it was as orange as a warm sunrise.

I savoured every tasty morsel,

my energy returning once more.

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It was nice to eat out in the blue sky,

a break from the old pot and stove.

Listening to inspirational fish stories

about food treasures to seek and find.

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The fish presented the pelican with a feast

of crustaceans created with rainbow coral.

The pelican was overjoyed with the food

and gratefully stored it in its large beak.

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As dusk fell, it was time to say goodnight,

to our very generous friend, the fish.

Flapping its wings, the pelican waved goodbye,

promising to visit soon and play again.

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Hopping onto the back of the giant pelican,

I smiled at Mother, content with a full tummy.

As the bird soared in the air, I sighed,

content with the magic of pink twilight.

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The pelican’s voice rang out to Mother,

as it circled around the pink twilight:

“Run your hands across the sky to see

what treasures you find floating free.”

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Stretching out her hand into the sky depths,

Mother felt warm twilight across her fingers.

Suddenly gasping, she retracted her hand,

discovering what had landed in her palm.

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It was a large bundle of one dollar notes,

which were buried deep within the sky.

Mother’s eyes streamed with thankful tears,

while she clutched the money to her chest.

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It was money we had never seen before,

poor and penniless in our home on the hill.

My mother counted each and every note,

once, twice and a third time over again.

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It was a generous gift drawn in the notebook

of my very mysterious and magical Grandpa.

A gift of twenty thousand, one dollar notes,

each designed with their own stories to share.

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Stories that we still look forward to every night,

after we eat the new food we gather and cook.

Grandpa’s magical tales in each dollar note,

sing the guiding songs of our brighter future.