Playing The Game

Playing the game
of pretending to be
asleep when he creeps in:
Giggling and carrying a tray
he can only just manage.
Tea, barely warm.
Spilled everywhere.
Toast, crisp shall we say
dripping with syrup that he, not I love.

“Surprise!”
He squeals
as I pretend to jump
and grab for the tray as he leaps on the bed
knocking the tea with his foot.

Sunday morning
with a five year old boy who's now snuggled up
beside me
eating my toast
as his father looks on,
longing for the day
he will get a lie in
and won't have to change the duvet!