Decimal delicacy
Daughter’s wilful delight
My darling daughter
You really oughta
Be more careful what you pick up
And then put into your mouth
Hand to eye coordination
A true revelation to your
Infant intellect
Allowing you to select
Selectively from your plate
Such morsels to delight
Your so far quite untrained palette
But a ten pee bit?
To wit a coin to the value
Of ten pence
Ten to the pound
A quite round sum of money
For you to acquire by your
Acquisitive little fingers
No… no… dirty! I say
Do you listen?
No
Jaws clamp tight around the treasure
My urgent pleas do never
Cause you to relent
Release the coin
Such pleasure in refusal
Your will unbent
Parents panic
Choking hazard
Vivid picture of our darling
Suffering all manner of
Alarming consequence
Soon
The grimy metal
Does succumb
To gastric muscle
Reflex swallow
Gone
A rush to the ER
Doctors medics
What’s to be done
To save our poor little one
Do nothing is the advice
Let nature take its course
Which of course
It does
As does the sliver of silver
A grimy disc as once was
With quick soapy rinse
In an instant
Becomes an indescribably
Shiny coin
For me to keep
Thus this treasure that you took
My darling daughter
Is now treasure mine
A keepsake to remind me
That you have always known
Your own mind
As such
My love for you
Knows no bounds
About the Creator
Raymond G. Taylor
Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.
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More stories from Raymond G. Taylor and writers in Poets and other communities.
My Own Umbrella
When a person stands on tiptoe to get closer to the sun, the whole world cannot block their light. Perhaps you are going through your toughest time right now, but please do not lose your courage. I know you have felt hate, heartbreak, and breakdown; I know you have doubted yourself and worried about the future.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout 19 hours ago in Poets
Swan
“During the Metal Age, humans took photographs of everything beautiful, which was everything, yet machines did not even wear shoes. The Fauxna thought of a better way. They colored all of the light rose, for a corrupted source cannot be verified.” - Origin Parable, 011
By Nicky Franklya day ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Hahahahahaha is this based on a true story?