Alex The Younger
My fathers prose,
My mothers pose.
We would play so gently on the stair.
Oh and mother is it fair?
Do you care?
Whilest they stare?
"That child is so Laissez-faire."
But Im as soft as a bud tonight,
Mother knows it is not right,
Out of spite,
"Darlings please don't fight."
It will all be alright.
I will hold you throughout the night.
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