Dirty Belongs Atop

For Fun, Poetry

the dirty belongs
of the pretty table
with posies painted

rather than lunches
of smashed nuts
and sweet, sweet
honeyed jam
dripping down a
boy’s dirty hand

my son,
the pajama warrior
clad in muddy
rubber boots
is always climbing
to new battle heights
where I find him determinedly
slaying devilish dragons
or fighting
dastardly knights

2 thoughts on “Dirty Belongs Atop”

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