Enjoying a 4-Year-Old Dictator Today
Living with a four-year-old dictator
I had forgotten how it feels
For my own youngest is forty; but now I remember.
He will not let me trim a bush
That hits him in the face as he comes off a slide.
“I like it, grandma!” he protests.
He stops singing when I mention how cute it sounds.
All of the outside chairs have been moved and stacked,
Under the sand pile, their legs sticking out in various angles.
The mulch I put out an hour before he came
Has now been dug up and transplanted.
And not by a groundhog.
“I am not your best friend!” he cries out
Whenever I give him any kind of redirection
As he knows it is non-negotiable
I just got it again
After refusing to retrieve the ball he kicked
Into the back forty for the hundred and twelfth time.
In another thirty-six years I will probably
Be happily watching this natural athlete’s
Son or daughter kick a ball into the back forty
If I know me, I will also be retrieving it.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
