Leave their clothes as they drop
before baths
before bed
The crumpled trousers
Creased
Greased
from days of play
the blackened bottoms of their white socks
just as they tossed them
i know they should pick them up
put them away
learn all those lessons
for their later days
but I leave till the morning
the mess of their being
I know
I will glance
At an hoovered empty rug
And remember
each shadow
each mud splat
exactly as they lay
Dadhood 