It’s hard, when they’re upset,

Not to think that it is you.

Was it something I said?

Or did I look at them wrong?

Or something I no doubt did do?


But it’s they that need you,

And that is all you can do,

To be around,

And to be,

To nurture,

And see,

Not worry about why



A smile,

Or hug,

A gift of a pun mug,

Or the controller for GTA times.

Some chocolate,

A rose,

Your child’s boogie

(Just casually hanging,

And swinging,

And being all gross) at the end of his nose(!)

Or write them a poem

That sort of just rhymes(?)


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