Child Care Conundrum At Six Poem by Alistair Plint

The glass fell from her hand
gravity was pulling
it to the floor
that rouge glass had a mission
like a Kamikaze pilot
calling victory
at the world and it's leaders

Silence beckoned as it fell
A slow motion replay of suicidal death
our bodies all clenched
Muscles tightened in cramps
as we waited for
silence to become a noisy crash

As it hit the cold porcelain tiles
it bounced
upward like a rugby ball
choosing direction
Well, as science
prescribed it flew exactly
half way back into the air
at exactly half the momentum
Simultaneously a tear fell
from her cheek like a rain drop
on a mission to save the earth

I stopped
put out my hand
and caught that tear!

"what about the glass daddy? "
whimpered the 6 year old voice


"Oh they aren't delicate; glasses
they don't need to be saved
tears don't bounce, baby."
echoed through the room


-x