Posted in poetry, writing

Crying Child

My eldest finds crying,

The thing that helps him win.

But when he starts, I don’t agree,

And have to bear it and grin.


Sometimes I turn to shouting,

And putting him in his place.

It’s the only thing that stops

The tears from rolling down his face.


He goes straight to crying,

No attempt at negotiating or compromise.

I explain that adults do this,

For we can’t get our way by letting floods pour from our eyes.


Then I think if I cried every time I didn’t get my way,

Surely the world would be better?

We’d show emotions all the time

With our eyes getting wetter and wetter?


In a perfect world maybe?!



"I loved writing as a child, loved making up silly stories. They came built-in to my brain, almost like an Ikea instruction manual. The focus these days is to figure out how to now turn them into books" Tanya Butler, June 2018

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