Sleeping Youngling

Intense laundry day, aura of fumes progress Laziness to portray, the mistress line of dress Lying about proudly, the toys all spread about Corduroy speaks loudly, on this child--strong and stout Den has rays of sunshine, with dust flowing through Its warm to the sublime, sleepy to the touch of you Nap time is coming, youth has its perks Mother is sadly humming, time doesn’t work Lying on the cushy rug, leaving marks on your face Dreaming to have a pug, a companion to slip and race TV softly running the news, volume is turned low For the baby needs to snooze, slips away down below Russell Sivey