The disruption

The disruption

To the peace,

When morning coffee

Spills across the floor.

Followed by a tortured squeal,

As a four year old,

Searching for boundaries,

Is brought to heal.

Roughly twisted,

Ham fisted.

Red faced parent,

Affronted by

Neighbourly reaction,

That demands a response,

Reluctantly

Breaks i-phone

Protocol.

And shouting over

The coffee shop whirl,

Stops the girl, in her tracks,

The mood cracks.

Somebody coughs.

A face to face off.

Spittle drenched,

Stunned by shock,

Rocked by inconsistence,

Infant confusion

Reigns,

And a small child cries,

Dreadful,

Broken hearted wails.

The barista’s face pales,

The mother sighs.

Belated and deflated

Attempted discipline

Failed.

With an exasperated shrug

She turns,

With a ‘...what can I do?’

Expression.

And resumes her

Conversation.

Eliciting silent consternation,

In the coffee drinkers,

Post-modern thinkers,

Medium roast high brows,

Much holier than thou’s,

Who sit in the gallery

Like judges, and whisper,

How much better they would be

As parents.

‘Some people should never have children...

You know...’

I finish my coffee and go.