With a teeter, a totter and a toddle
He grabs a handful of sweets.
Like a rainbow that appears in a fountain
They tumble to the ground,
Dropping through the gaps in the hand
As a claw machine loses a toy.
The dye runs, smudges, smothers his hands,
They look like a playground wall.
He laughs, crumbs creep out of his reddened lips.
Along the surface of the carpet,
The scattered sweets are as big as some planets.
He traipses a runny nose through the universe.
Large blue brogues appear beneath the boy’s head.
From the floor his stubbly, pale face
And frowning blue lips amuses the little boy.
Like an unhappy clown who smiles
And appears even more unhappy, this was the man’s
Quiet manner. Who swallowed a handful of his own
turned from the boy into his bedroom
And shut the door.