Technicolour days

A poem

We brought my 15-year-old daughter’s desk downstairs after her teachers, all of them, let me know she wasn’t attending classes. I love having her home. I do, I swear! It’s just everything that goes with it that causes several colourful/painful/frustrating facepalm moments … a day.

Fights and all, we’ll be sad when it ends.

“I’m being treated so unfairly!” She says miserably as she pushes away The empty bowl of nutrient-free cereal. I let out a giggle.

“Daaaad! I’m being laughed at” Her face scrunches. Her eyes roll. But with the screaming music gone I’m in a moment’s peace.

Sadly, the next Gregorian chant to play Is ‘Silent Night’ and all erupt. As it’s not Christmas, you know, And it’s horrible being schooled at home.

Damn you Spotify. I admit defeat. We hear ‘I still haven’t found what I’m looking for And all nod. Music, movies, those Infernal, endless series’

Of friends and families, we prefer To our average, everyday grey But what good when at last we come Together in pursuit

Of distraction that leads to Some connection between the two Or four. Five on a good day And we’re each

Treated unfairly as each honest wish Dissolves into the pot Of compromise and fairness No win.

“I’m going to sleep now”. It’s 11:45 am I’m unfairly relieved. One less wish To concede to. And one less battle For casting control.

Who owns the audio? Who controls the TV? I remember my old day fights Pushing and shoving, now replaced with Fastest fingers, alternating beeps

And chaos. Half watched, half-heard Elevators of win and lose Colour our days together and I’m thankful.