TENNIS BALLS OR STOCK EXCHANGE?

 

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It’s light again as morning breaks

The sleep that was, a recent memory

We engage in some kind of muffled early morning chit chat none of which makes sense, but nobody cares
It’s more an exercising of the Jaw bone, to ease us into daylight mode.

The kettle steams-it’s coffee time, a million smiles park off on my pillow smothered face
It’s Sunday you see,
no work for me,
I think I’ll stay
in my Pyjamas all day

Pillows now propping me up, coffee and toast in hand, the senseless chit chat becomes conversation, as our brains warm up, our eyes alert.

Our discussion, very adult like, is abruptly interrupted, by an almighty leap of a black ball of fluff, flying through the air, landing as he pleases, completely uncoordinated in perfect Labrador style.

The coffee is balancing the toast is in danger, hold on party people, the cyclone has arrived.

As he makes himself quite at home between us, lying upside down, he stiffens up and keeps dead still, part of his grand plan to blend in, and keep the adults happy.

He’s there, lying with his head half on and half off the pillow,
ridiculously still, his beady little brown eyes scanning our faces for the next move…..a tennis ball? A piece of toast to share? A wrestle with dad?

His teeth poke out as his chops fall onto his cheek with gravity.

The adult conversation that was a masterpiece in the making, had withered to dust as we realised the complete irrelevance of the human word.

The meaning of life? The value of the Aussie dollar? Political warfare in Northern Africa?

Nope-Tennis balls, toast and mum and dads bed.

That’s all that matters, this morning.


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