19th November 2013

Sonnet 17

I was waiting for my latte to come,

Casting an eye over Costas' desserts

(I need strong caffeine to get out my tomb

It kickstarts all the poet's vital parts)

But there were lots of little infant eyes

Unschool'd by mums in coffeeshop graces;

You know how it feels, I'll tell you no lies -

I really object to their fresh wee faces.

This hasbeen mum's got to that certain age,

And finds it hard to hold  an angry tongue

With a forc'ed smile not venting her rage :

 She won't join in your tired old nursery song.

It's no sticky fingers in my foam time -

The only symmetry I want's this rhyme.