The Child

Stanley is the kicking,
the spinning in the park.
Our days are finally taken
over by a frenzied life.

The biting tells
us he is too much
for others. The TV is great
for him. Life is still.

He sleeps. He doesn’t tell
us about his favorite shows.
There is a sighing. A change moves
throughout the house.

Stan is all upstairs,
we only hear his door
and the screams
of video games.

—–

Something I wrote for Time to Write’s Contest asking for poems about childhood.

 

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