It’s not the noise you have to fear,
It’s when the house goes still,
When shouting turns to whispers
And there’s peace at last, until,
It’s quiet just a bit too long,
What, still no screams or shouts?
When asked, ‘what’s going on up there?’
The dread reply comes out,
‘Nothing, Mummy, honestly,
you don’t need to come up,’
By then you know it’s far too late,
Put down your coffee cup,
No need to climb the stairs at speed,
Deep breath and count to ten,
Crayons on the walls this time,
Or soap dispensed again?


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