Best On A Short Leash Poems

No more babies to make.
We're all done my wife says.
Get the scissors.
We have 3 of our own
All under 5,
4 total.
Why look so nostalgic towards babies 
Tinier than my 11 month old?
The kid's truck-sized,
Like wielding slabs of marble about.
We're done,
He's heavy,
We're out.

It's just so terminating.
The era...

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