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"appy" poems
*i think, you should stop going to italy, for one, oh **** me, keep going on hedonist piss-fuck fests to places like mallorca, but stop going to italy, you're making my stomach ache from laughter, with what you come back with, the so-called "innovations"; somehow i'd just poach my cauliflower, and drizzle it with fried breadcrumbs, and serve it as a side-dish to fried eggs (2), and some tatties; for goodness sake, even cauliflower cream soup makes more sense, garnished with some fried chorizo!* first it was avocado on toast...           who the **** puts avocado on bread? i can imagine putting it in pasta... but on bread?                 hey, what the **** does the acronym f.a.d. mean?              i don't know, and i won't google it... o.k. avocado on toast...               nothing near guacamole,   but fair enough...            but what i discovered... pushes the button where i turn into a fox laughter (fuchslachen) -            i couldn't stop...                       you can find it in the weekend section of the saturday times newspaper... written by nicola m.           cauliflower and mozzarella pizza... you have to be ******** me...                 cauliflower? on pizza? one of my housemates at university told me an anecdote:     i was in a restaurant once,           and asked for a pizza with no cheese... he continued:       and then the head chef came out and asked me... are you, insane?!        a bit like: bread...    but no butter? and i thought i was insane eating a watermelon today, whole, the red pulp, and the outer layers including the skin included, allowing myself a gorilla imitation cameo gimmick...       but i thought i was mad... but there's avocado on toast...    and now... cauliflower on pizza...                               it's a ******* side-dish! wait, don't tell me... you're going to put some potatoes onto the pizza the next frizz comes along... right?                       how about beetroot?                          thankfully, if i have some wacky ideas in terms of culinary escapades, they happen, drunk, after 12a.m., and i'm the scientist, and the experimental rabbit 2-in-1...                      a newspaper column? apparently, you get one, putting avocado on toast...                  or cauliflower on a pi-zzzzz-ah... to be honest, even though i haven't tried it, grilled aubergines on a pizza could work...    the toast?               marmite and cheddar... english people should stop glorifying holidays in italy... they're ****** cooks...                    an italian would just look at a pizza with cauliflower and say:          cosa? i'd suggest heading to scotland first, and picking up the vibes from some haggis. **** me...    avocado on toast...                 caulifower on a pizza?!                            now i can die happy, 'appy, clapping: encore!
0
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
english culinary experiments
*i think, you should stop going to italy, for one, oh **** me, keep going on hedonist piss-fuck fests to places like mallorca, but stop going to italy, you're making my stomach ache from laughter, with what you come back with, the so-called "innovations"; somehow i'd just poach my cauliflower, and drizzle it with fried breadcrumbs, and serve it as a side-dish to fried eggs (2), and some tatties; for goodness sake, even cauliflower cream soup makes more sense, garnished with some fried chorizo!* first it was avocado on toast...           who the **** puts avocado on bread? i can imagine putting it in pasta... but on bread?                 hey, what the **** does the acronym f.a.d. mean?              i don't know, and i won't google it... o.k. avocado on toast...               nothing near guacamole,   but fair enough...            but what i discovered... pushes the button where i turn into a fox laughter (fuchslachen) -            i couldn't stop...                       you can find it in the weekend section of the saturday times newspaper... written by nicola m.           cauliflower and mozzarella pizza... you have to be ******** me...                 cauliflower? on pizza? one of my housemates at university told me an anecdote:     i was in a restaurant once,           and asked for a pizza with no cheese... he continued:       and then the head chef came out and asked me... are you, insane?!        a bit like: bread...    but no butter? and i thought i was insane eating a watermelon today, whole, the red pulp, and the outer layers including the skin included, allowing myself a gorilla imitation cameo gimmick...       but i thought i was mad... but there's avocado on toast...    and now... cauliflower on pizza...                               it's a ******* side-dish! wait, don't tell me... you're going to put some potatoes onto the pizza the next frizz comes along... right?                       how about beetroot?                          thankfully, if i have some wacky ideas in terms of culinary escapades, they happen, drunk, after 12a.m., and i'm the scientist, and the experimental rabbit 2-in-1...                      a newspaper column? apparently, you get one, putting avocado on toast...                  or cauliflower on a pi-zzzzz-ah... to be honest, even though i haven't tried it, grilled aubergines on a pizza could work...    the toast?               marmite and cheddar... english people should stop glorifying holidays in italy... they're ****** cooks...                    an italian would just look at a pizza with cauliflower and say:          cosa? i'd suggest heading to scotland first, and picking up the vibes from some haggis. **** me...    avocado on toast...                 caulifower on a pizza?!                            now i can die happy, 'appy, clapping: encore!
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65
Speakin’ in general, I’ave tried ’em all The ‘appy roads that take you o’er the world. Speakin’ in general, I’ave found them good For such as cannot use one bed too long, But must get ‘ence, the same as I’ave done, An’ go observin’ matters till they die. What do it matter where or ‘ow we die, So long as we’ve our ‘ealth to watch it all— The different ways that different things are done, An’ men an’ women lovin’ in this world; Takin’ our chances as they come along, An’ when they ain’t, pretendin’ they are good? In cash or credit—no, it aren’t no good; You’ve to ‘ave the ‘abit or you’d die, Unless you lived your life but one day long, Nor didn’t prophesy nor fret at all, But drew your tucker some’ow from the world, An’ never bothered what you might ha’ done. But, Gawd, what things are they I’aven’t done? I’ve turned my ‘and to most, an’ turned it good, In various situations round the world For ‘im that doth not work must surely die; But that’s no reason man should labour all ‘Is life on one same shift—life’s none so long. Therefore, from job to job I’ve moved along. Pay couldn’t ‘old me when my time was done, For something in my ‘ead upset it all, Till I’ad dropped whatever ’twas for good, An’, out at sea, be’eld the dock-lights die, An’ met my mate—the wind that tramps the world! It’s like a book, I think, this bloomin, world, Which you can read and care for just so long, But presently you feel that you will die Unless you get the page you’re readi’n’ done, An’ turn another—likely not so good; But what you’re after is to turn’em all. Gawd bless this world! Whatever she’oth done— Excep’ When awful long—I’ve found it good. So write, before I die, ” ‘E liked it all!”
0
2.4k
Rudyard Kipling
Sestina Of The Tramp-Royal
Speakin’ in general, I’ave tried ’em all The ‘appy roads that take you o’er the world. Speakin’ in general, I’ave found them good For such as cannot use one bed too long, But must get ‘ence, the same as I’ave done, An’ go observin’ matters till they die. What do it matter where or ‘ow we die, So long as we’ve our ‘ealth to watch it all— The different ways that different things are done, An’ men an’ women lovin’ in this world; Takin’ our chances as they come along, An’ when they ain’t, pretendin’ they are good? In cash or credit—no, it aren’t no good; You’ve to ‘ave the ‘abit or you’d die, Unless you lived your life but one day long, Nor didn’t prophesy nor fret at all, But drew your tucker some’ow from the world, An’ never bothered what you might ha’ done. But, Gawd, what things are they I’aven’t done? I’ve turned my ‘and to most, an’ turned it good, In various situations round the world For ‘im that doth not work must surely die; But that’s no reason man should labour all ‘Is life on one same shift—life’s none so long. Therefore, from job to job I’ve moved along. Pay couldn’t ‘old me when my time was done, For something in my ‘ead upset it all, Till I’ad dropped whatever ’twas for good, An’, out at sea, be’eld the dock-lights die, An’ met my mate—the wind that tramps the world! It’s like a book, I think, this bloomin, world, Which you can read and care for just so long, But presently you feel that you will die Unless you get the page you’re readi’n’ done, An’ turn another—likely not so good; But what you’re after is to turn’em all. Gawd bless this world! Whatever she’oth done— Excep’ When awful long—I’ve found it good. So write, before I die, ” ‘E liked it all!”
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39
Anytime you feel lonely Beckon for me to come into your arms Catch hold of my hand in the shadows, in the back row Don't let go. Every day is a new day Feeling good Good feeling Happy... Almost. I don't want you to leave as well Just stay, please... Keep your fingers crossed Love the way that your dark eyes shine so brightly My heart races in your presence No good can come from this Only few understand. Please hold on for a little longer Quit with the teasing already Ridiculous, our circumstances... Slow down, I want to know more Tell me your deepest secrets Under the light of the moon. Velvet blankets, picnic baskets What's next? Xoxo, your biggest fan You never did understand my jokes Zzzzzz, goodnight, day dreamer... *Now I know my ABCs, Next time won't you comfort me?*
0
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
worried-words
My ABCs
Anytime you feel lonely Beckon for me to come into your arms Catch hold of my hand in the shadows, in the back row Don't let go. Every day is a new day Feeling good Good feeling Happy... Almost. I don't want you to leave as well Just stay, please... Keep your fingers crossed Love the way that your dark eyes shine so brightly My heart races in your presence No good can come from this Only few understand. Please hold on for a little longer Quit with the teasing already Ridiculous, our circumstances... Slow down, I want to know more Tell me your deepest secrets Under the light of the moon. Velvet blankets, picnic baskets What's next? Xoxo, your biggest fan You never did understand my jokes Zzzzzz, goodnight, day dreamer... *Now I know my ABCs, Next time won't you comfort me?*
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28
so the *** debate is raging like a Californian wildfire in the forests, people are "presumed" missing... i'm sat watching back to the future (beats star wars, every, single time: the ****** is more obvious) and then drinking... i always wanted to taste a lobster... and listening to the best of billy joel... scratching my mustache... BELGIANS IN THE UK! then fiddling with my bead... my beard... i have a beard?!i **** i have a beard! i took, fiddling with my ***** the wrong way... after all ****** airs have the same feel as ***** hair... a bit like cleavage... so... you're donningv     the buttock crack up-front?! funny, eh? making fun of the phallus... how about feeding a Donnie Disney with your, puppies?! how about that? ***             if women do need no men... do what we do... **** off anal-style... we do the **** projective... you cut out utilizing the ****** look... 'appy bunnies" if ai am about to turn into a ***** the female right... all the rights you require... sure... have them... but what sort of right is it, when there's no existentialist argument? go on... please... make your dodo               and your mixed-raced argument... mono-racial is the new neanderthal... call it... we're not progressive enough... we're too ******** to mingle ethnicity... call it!        call me halfway house between down and the ****** call it!                        call it! ***** better call it!         (through gritting teeth): call it! i said... call it! be your progressive "self"... call it!          i'm ******** for not mingling adequately enough with crafting a trans-ethnicity populace... neanderthal...    *****                       call it! guess what... i love the laced take on history via the Anglophone re-reinterpretation of Darwinism... i love the neanderthal take on thiongs... i'm bilingual, schizophrenic, the sort of mongrel that... has no place among the duo-ethnicity... "mongrels"... lucky you, lucky me...   i'm sorry... the F extends just so far... two languages, orange man, bad... but a congregation of a dual ethnicity, green man, god, and "the" good...      whatever suits your favor... i should care, i won't care, i don't care, i will, to never ever give a **** about caring; like god "said": on your own;         i much prefer the freedoms of the jungle, than the restrictions of a zoo. it's billy joel, "by the way"... life will go on... obviously a life much ******** than the intelligent people are used to... but... if that's what you allow... then you're deserving it.
0
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
likened to the photographs of my exeses
so the *** debate is raging like a Californian wildfire in the forests, people are "presumed" missing... i'm sat watching back to the future (beats star wars, every, single time: the ****** is more obvious) and then drinking... i always wanted to taste a lobster... and listening to the best of billy joel... scratching my mustache... BELGIANS IN THE UK! then fiddling with my bead... my beard... i have a beard?!i **** i have a beard! i took, fiddling with my ***** the wrong way... after all ****** airs have the same feel as ***** hair... a bit like cleavage... so... you're donningv     the buttock crack up-front?! funny, eh? making fun of the phallus... how about feeding a Donnie Disney with your, puppies?! how about that? ***             if women do need no men... do what we do... **** off anal-style... we do the **** projective... you cut out utilizing the ****** look... 'appy bunnies" if ai am about to turn into a ***** the female right... all the rights you require... sure... have them... but what sort of right is it, when there's no existentialist argument? go on... please... make your dodo               and your mixed-raced argument... mono-racial is the new neanderthal... call it... we're not progressive enough... we're too ******** to mingle ethnicity... call it!        call me halfway house between down and the ****** call it!                        call it! ***** better call it!         (through gritting teeth): call it! i said... call it! be your progressive "self"... call it!          i'm ******** for not mingling adequately enough with crafting a trans-ethnicity populace... neanderthal...    *****                       call it! guess what... i love the laced take on history via the Anglophone re-reinterpretation of Darwinism... i love the neanderthal take on thiongs... i'm bilingual, schizophrenic, the sort of mongrel that... has no place among the duo-ethnicity... "mongrels"... lucky you, lucky me...   i'm sorry... the F extends just so far... two languages, orange man, bad... but a congregation of a dual ethnicity, green man, god, and "the" good...      whatever suits your favor... i should care, i won't care, i don't care, i will, to never ever give a **** about caring; like god "said": on your own;         i much prefer the freedoms of the jungle, than the restrictions of a zoo. it's billy joel, "by the way"... life will go on... obviously a life much ******** than the intelligent people are used to... but... if that's what you allow... then you're deserving it.
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116
Eye hav a higgoramous, shee tort me orl I knoe Sheez a clevar Higgoramous az Higorrami goe Shee tort me orl mi spelin and wen eye pik mi no’s Ter wypit on der carpit knot rubbit on mi close Sum peepul saye herz higgorrunt an saye dat shee iz fik I ate dem orrid peepul dey reely mayk mee sik I ope dat shee gitz pregerant an az a littel cubb Eye’ll fead er lotz of kandie an uthar luvly grubb Eye’ll elp er mummie baff er eye’ll chainge er durty nappie Shee’ll bee soe qoot an cudelsum shee’l mayk mee viry appy An wen der cubb gitz biggar shee’ll plae wiv mee an kis An evariwun wil real eyes dat higgoramous’s iz bliss :-)
0
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
Blocat
My Higgorramous
Eye hav a higgoramous, shee tort me orl I knoe Sheez a clevar Higgoramous az Higorrami goe Shee tort me orl mi spelin and wen eye pik mi no’s Ter wypit on der carpit knot rubbit on mi close Sum peepul saye herz higgorrunt an saye dat shee iz fik I ate dem orrid peepul dey reely mayk mee sik I ope dat shee gitz pregerant an az a littel cubb Eye’ll fead er lotz of kandie an uthar luvly grubb Eye’ll elp er mummie baff er eye’ll chainge er durty nappie Shee’ll bee soe qoot an cudelsum shee’l mayk mee viry appy An wen der cubb gitz biggar shee’ll plae wiv mee an kis An evariwun wil real eyes dat higgoramous’s iz bliss :-)
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12
You trip over apologies like I stumble into love, accidental and bruised. They dribble out the side of your mouth and onto the letter you're writing for the benefit of you and you alone. You'll tuck it beneath my windshield wipers, whispering the words that you always fall back on, "I'm sorry."
0
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 9:24 AM UTC
charles-barnett
Appy-Polly-Loggies
You trip over apologies like I stumble into love, accidental and bruised. They dribble out the side of your mouth and onto the letter you're writing for the benefit of you and you alone. You'll tuck it beneath my windshield wipers, whispering the words that you always fall back on, "I'm sorry."
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11
hello there chellovecks and forellas appy polly logies for the chepooka for i am only a devotchka begging for a malenky lomtick of jeezny droogies and nadsats everyone who owns a pair of ookos listen up to your humble narrator bring me a pletcho platch and a polyclef to open up the sun.
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
maybemarc
.
hello there chellovecks and forellas appy polly logies for the chepooka for i am only a devotchka begging for a malenky lomtick of jeezny droogies and nadsats everyone who owns a pair of ookos listen up to your humble narrator bring me a pletcho platch and a polyclef to open up the sun.
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11
obviously chappy has a different connotation (slang meaning for the orthodoxy resumed in dictionary, i.e. bow-tie synonyousness) in English language, etymology to no other borrowed word from South African... chappy just means a pigeon-walk of groove when listening to Brit-Pop, or cheeky post-punk, a bit like imagining a bowler hat on your head while walking down Oxford St., so that's that chappy; pigeons are naturally gifted in head-banging; you're a chappy if you donned Ben Sherman shirts without a belt, wearing jeans, styled on an Oasis hit single... premature Quadrophenia attainment to fit it... that how i define a chappy... the zenith of Brit Pop, Ben Sherman shirts loose over the waistline of jeans and sport sneakers, and an Oasis single as the baseline for the heart to thump bu boom... a real life chappy was this kid in primary school, Tom... the exactness of what later became a metrosexual... prior to that they were called chappies, Ben Sherman shirts not tucked into a stiff pair of jeans... you never could imagine an Englishman so under-dressed, he must have come from Manchester as was the obvious answer back then.
0
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
chappy among 'appy chappies
obviously chappy has a different connotation (slang meaning for the orthodoxy resumed in dictionary, i.e. bow-tie synonyousness) in English language, etymology to no other borrowed word from South African... chappy just means a pigeon-walk of groove when listening to Brit-Pop, or cheeky post-punk, a bit like imagining a bowler hat on your head while walking down Oxford St., so that's that chappy; pigeons are naturally gifted in head-banging; you're a chappy if you donned Ben Sherman shirts without a belt, wearing jeans, styled on an Oasis hit single... premature Quadrophenia attainment to fit it... that how i define a chappy... the zenith of Brit Pop, Ben Sherman shirts loose over the waistline of jeans and sport sneakers, and an Oasis single as the baseline for the heart to thump bu boom... a real life chappy was this kid in primary school, Tom... the exactness of what later became a metrosexual... prior to that they were called chappies, Ben Sherman shirts not tucked into a stiff pair of jeans... you never could imagine an Englishman so under-dressed, he must have come from Manchester as was the obvious answer back then.
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24
evri dai weni *** hom i say ello too mi famulee dey sai hii bak i an prowd perent if i hav mi 909t cild i well be appie wen i goo to slep i drem of mi famelie wre arr habingg a jood tiem eeting luch in de prak ssomany appy memores
0
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC
magicbroccoli66
wen i am hom
evri dai weni *** hom i say ello too mi famulee dey sai hii bak i an prowd perent if i hav mi 909t cild i well be appie wen i goo to slep i drem of mi famelie wre arr habingg a jood tiem eeting luch in de prak ssomany appy memores
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8
et id me borfday toodai we ar so happi dso bee 16 yodqay we wouldn lik to t6hank qaqdam rylander he had ben  a grayt heelp i wood lek jew also fank solari he liked mee pomes and amde me go trending if yoo cood chair dis wev ur frends and mak me famoos i wood be appy
0
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
magicbroccoli66
ye fore mE
et id me borfday toodai we ar so happi dso bee 16 yodqay we wouldn lik to t6hank qaqdam rylander he had ben  a grayt heelp i wood lek jew also fank solari he liked mee pomes and amde me go trending if yoo cood chair dis wev ur frends and mak me famoos i wood be appy
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8
And then they scream, Louder with every bite of dark chocolate, Late movies date and fun mate, Misters were in each ones dream was their real fate. Conflicts and sorrows Comes and fades, Love was the only reason as they relates, The winter brought happy, Like the apple was arouse as Appy, Secrets keeper, Like salt and pepper. Fashion parade, dance and date, Truth and dare inappropriate, Again the conflicts rise and shed, Love was the only reason , The sisters were made.
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Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
biramichora
SISTERS
And then they scream, Louder with every bite of dark chocolate, Late movies date and fun mate, Misters were in each ones dream was their real fate. Conflicts and sorrows Comes and fades, Love was the only reason as they relates, The winter brought happy, Like the apple was arouse as Appy, Secrets keeper, Like salt and pepper. Fashion parade, dance and date, Truth and dare inappropriate, Again the conflicts rise and shed, Love was the only reason , The sisters were made.
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17
Silly is what they call me Happy is what I'll be Another would be a maniac Not knowing why I act Awake in the evening Losing sleep in the night Depraved of sleeping Really, in the dark nowhere in sight Idealistically wanting to be cool Alas I'm corny like a fool Never say 'give up' in a battle I fight
0
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
shan-coralde
Introduction
Silly is what they call me Happy is what I'll be Another would be a maniac Not knowing why I act Awake in the evening Losing sleep in the night Depraved of sleeping Really, in the dark nowhere in sight Idealistically wanting to be cool Alas I'm corny like a fool Never say 'give up' in a battle I fight
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11
You love her I love you What's new? I love you in the dark Where the shadows hide me Where you can't find me It hurts so much you don't even know When you tell me you love her, more than it shows You're a gobemouche, can't you see the truth? Whenever you need me I'll always be here Waiting and waiting for something that might never even come
0
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 5:47 AM UTC
gwen-pimentel
H(urt)appy
You love her I love you What's new? I love you in the dark Where the shadows hide me Where you can't find me It hurts so much you don't even know When you tell me you love her, more than it shows You're a gobemouche, can't you see the truth? Whenever you need me I'll always be here Waiting and waiting for something that might never even come
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13
From beginning to end Rising heck and mayhem I love the way to make me laugh with your stupid jokes Even though sometimes i may be sad you Never ever mind Dealing with the unknown future Silly pictures of us when we were tiny Happy times will always be in our hearts I hate to say goodbye even though we will see each other in the future Parting from you I can not imagine
0
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
fenix-Flight
Friendship
From beginning to end Rising heck and mayhem I love the way to make me laugh with your stupid jokes Even though sometimes i may be sad you Never ever mind Dealing with the unknown future Silly pictures of us when we were tiny Happy times will always be in our hearts I hate to say goodbye even though we will see each other in the future Parting from you I can not imagine
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10
Christian family searching for the truth. Happy family playing games at the kitchen table. Righteous members going to the temple. Inspired parents helping children. Sinners still, but finding forgiveness. Trying hard to be the best. Instead their daughter goes the other way. Not seeking truth and righteousness. Away from the church and the family values.
0
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
christina-cox
Christina
Christian family searching for the truth. Happy family playing games at the kitchen table. Righteous members going to the temple. Inspired parents helping children. Sinners still, but finding forgiveness. Trying hard to be the best. Instead their daughter goes the other way. Not seeking truth and righteousness. Away from the church and the family values.
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9
i don’t know what time or what day of the week it is. but today or tonight or this afternoon i am consumed. how i can’t listen to that album anymore without remembering how we lie sprawled on my bed as you sang to me and played the strands of my hair like a piano, singing words of someone much bigger than us who probably never blinked at the notion of such mundane love. but still the words bring back waves. no matter the time or the day, i still remember. and it still burns in the night and they day and in the afternoon.
0
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
plathsi
un(h)appy
i don’t know what time or what day of the week it is. but today or tonight or this afternoon i am consumed. how i can’t listen to that album anymore without remembering how we lie sprawled on my bed as you sang to me and played the strands of my hair like a piano, singing words of someone much bigger than us who probably never blinked at the notion of such mundane love. but still the words bring back waves. no matter the time or the day, i still remember. and it still burns in the night and they day and in the afternoon.
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15
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.
0
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
fay-slimm
Under-Staffed.
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.
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17