A brush with the toilet.
Brushing the toilet for the guests would arrive
I splashed a spoon on me and it wrinkled my eyes
Thought then of the kids
Ripping the stairs
Down to the gifts awaiting them there.
I finished the job then washed myself clean
Looking into the mirror a bit longer it seemed
Things never done staring back deepest to me
I’m both partner and parent, but mostly much me.
But I’ve just cleaned the toilet!
And the rest to the seams!
Surely that counts?
See how it gleams!
The guests will adore it, they’ll rave it in toasts!
We’ll see whose toilet bowls them over the most.
But, dude, you’re just high, and now talking alone
Holy crap this floor’s smooth and
There’s not one single hair.
Santa will surely sit on this throne
When the gifts have been set and the cookies are gone.
He will roll out a Yule log then be on his way
Merriest, yet, in his less foul-smelling sleigh.
As I sanctioned my stance on the shimmering tile
My little one woke
And I only could smile.
