Under- Staffed.


Heavy with deepest deep sleep
he feels layers begin to un-zip, one by bleary one
and dipped head under the sheets.

Aware of small moving feet creeping away
he starts a hazy ascent but finds another quick
fit of dozing making him stay.

Too early he knows he leaves dreams half done
and grieves battles half-fought which had to be won
but once awakened chores have begun.

He wearily raises sleep-held lids to see standing,
wide-eyed and still night attired, his kids with tray
holding biscuits and milk scarily balanced.

Three little grins singing loudly as planned a great
"Appy Buffdy" and though childishly done his heart
swells as with pride he accepts his fate.

Love is a single Dad doing his under-staffed best.