Child psychologist
revisionist
doing it on the cheap
hooked up to your computer
Only you know how
Down in the deep forest
How the animals scutter
And the parasols flutter
in the wind
I’m running out of words
For a racoon drinking
a cup of tea and nibbling
on a biscuit
Thief, liar, double
Alice bears down on me
In my hammock her hand
full of cockerel feathers
and a donut for me to eat
Ah love! Or is it bliss
A five year stint as mother
continues to thrive outdoors
Indoors is silent and wept
over like raindrops on a tin roof
pitter patter here, boisterous laughter there
something is abundant everywhere
but here the truth is…
Your balls are made of silicon
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