Murray Mahauariki Poet I do not know?

Who's the Boss

The stand off's been set, to each other we look,
both waiting for the next move, in anticipation we wait.
Neither will back down, no weakness shown,
the king of this jungle, will soon be revealed.

Defiantly he stands, with a scowl on his face,
hands on his hips, he doesn't sway.
Shaking his head with disapproval, he looks at me sly, 
"I don't have to" he states, with not even a blink in his eyes.

“You listen to me, just do what you told"
shocked by his reply, but amused by his style.
Contemplating my rebuttal, to regain control,
I need to choose my word wisely, in this is a battle of wills.

Not a shutter he makes, with that dirty look in his eyes,
the words just roll off his tongue, why am I not surprised.
"You can't make me", he claims, convinced with his words,
he thinks with that it's over, boy! You never gonna learn.

I give him that stare, you know the one.
the one that tells him it over, or his goose is done.
"Come... here... now!" i said,  in that stern leveled voice,
this game is over, you'll do what I say.

His last little dig, as he drags his feet slowly along,
"I hate you" he mumbles, his lips nearly hitting the ground.
This is the kind of stuff, that melts my heart,
Me and my 3year old battling it out, to see who's the boss.

M.Mahauariki © 2008

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