Saturday, February 26, 2011

Day 192, saturday morning

Saturday Morning
is little boys with cow-licked hair
rubbing against my chin
the smell of pancakes permeate
and fill the house, their gentle sizzle
a soothing sound that seems to blend
with the steam from our coffee
held in hand, balanced on a knee
pudgy toes rub together, sleepy
blue eyes close and open
it's a false but welcome lull, an
I've got nothing better to do but
lay around and flip the channels,
and then ten o clock is here and
the uniform is on, rowdy they run
outside to shoot some hoops
like a magic trick, the serenity
disappears as if it never existed
no trace of it at all.

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