6 April 2026, 9.11PM
The End of a Day Spent With My 3-Year Old
I’m squatting on a step stool in the dark, my bum going numb
Next to my son comfortably tucked in, taking his time to succumb
My hands keep my head from rolling off onto the floor
Just biding the right moment to make for the door
My brain is failing and my back is so sore
I’ve lost count of my coffees since the first one at four
This afternoon at the beach you lost your shoe
When while showering you threw it as I was telling you not to
My patience has been thusly tested I don’t know how many times
I don’t know how I’ve managed to not lose my mind
I don’t think I had ever imagined being this fried
Don’t think I could become more tired if I tried
I’m just so ready now to collapse into bed
It’s a whole new meaning now, to feel exhausted
This time tomorrow will probably be the same
The crazy thing is,
I gladly do it all over again.
Poems for My Sons 