The kids are here, if only for a night.
Their mother had some work, some states away.
And though the morning wasn't perfect, quite,
It really was a very simple day.
I read them both some poems that I had written
At dinner, when it looked like they were ready.
It humored them -- then, not exactly smitten,
They asked to have a little more spaghetti.
Their showers and their bedtime and their reading
Caused no dissent -- they let me be the boss,
Although my son required an extra feeding
At bedtime. Then he didn't want to floss.
Their mom and I may argue over keys,
But both the kids are good at saying please.
They navigate me with a certain ease.


Salon.com
Comments
to put your very every day in form is quite something.
tril, thank you. You are such a loyal reader, I really appreciate the effort to rate. And thanks for the compliment -- when I do a poem about an ordinary day, I'm always afraid I'm just descending into occasional verse.
Renatta, I'm a literal-minded formalist. Somehow, things I can't say in real life, I can say in formal poetry. If faced with trying to write free-form stuff, I'm afraid I would just stare at the paper and go, "huh?"
kissing, thanks for the bump. It was sweet, and not at all necessary, but very much appreciated.
Linnnn, thanks for popping by again. I enjoy it when people say a little thing like that -- the simple agreement on a common experience is very affirming.
Hello diary of a food addict! Can I shorten that? Maybe "Dear Diary?" Thanks for coming by, always happy to have someone new.
Sorry I have so little time -- I owe some people some reading of their stuff! I'll get there! Thanks for your patience.