Power cut

Winter morning
starts out fun
two small boys
wielding torches.

But we squashed it.

Harried.
Fuses flipped.
Phone calls made.
Rushing them
out the door.

When I pick you up
they said you’d been
quiet.

That night
monster puppet
had something to tell me.
“I’m worried about the lights”
“What if the torches stop working?”

Sorry monster puppet.
sorry little one.
I wish i’d done
this morning
differently.

I wrote this poem after a power cut last winter. Sometimes it is hard to keep the show on the road and be the parent you want to be.

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