the odd sockery
do but mock me
as the lego bits
grind the bones
of my heels
faintly i smell
old orange peel

toys, stuffed pell mell
into ye old treasure chest
the piece of three weeks old pizza
you ain't ever gonna unring that bell

favorite teddy at rest on window sill
looking far from his best
and in his snake-arium, lies bill
the blue tongued lizard lazy and still
on the shelf beside, the books
of the boy wizard,
the one with the glasses

the bed barely passes
the status of made
and in the nooks
his father created
all sorts of findings
and keepings and
thingamabobs are laid

bless, in the corner a beanbag, sags
with the weight of my world
and his book bag, all snuggled up
with the tuxedo cat, whose motor purrs
like a harley cruising on by

the room a catastrophe,  in it's early stages
but  at the sight of them my ire disengages
and i stop still and thank the stars in heaven
that these two are mine, that they are happy
and safe and incredibly fine

sunday afternoon in the burbs
somewhat, wonderfully sublime