Ode to a Teenage Boy
My teenage son just never smiles, he’ll only sit and glower
He doesn’t like to stand; he’ll place a chair under the shower,
I’d like to clean his room; but my lad locks his bedroom door,
And when I finally break in, I can never see the floor,
His room is full of clutter, there’s thick dust upon his shelves,
He’ll never use the wash bin; clothes just walk there by themselves
His voice is so peculiar; a sound that’s quite unique,
He sounds deep and gruff one minute, then we’ll hear an anguished squeak,
His face is getting fluffy and he’s grown a little ‘tash,
He rarely ever talks to us, except to ask for cash,
But can someone please explain to me his animated tone,
When he talks to all his schoolmates on his wretched mobile phone?
It’s not an easy journey; tell me, will I ever see,
The lovely lad I used to know, returning home to me?
©Jan Jack’s Perfect Verse 2010
