I have been working on a new skill, in the evenings.
It is called sleep-reading.
Since marriage and children
I have mastered sleep-talking
And I can sleep-read to myself,
Pages and pages, comprehending not a word.
But I know I have yet to master
When my daughter slaps me mid-story,
Detecting that the plot has gotten terribly off course:
Little Red Riding Hood sharing bread and jam
With a big, bad badger named Albert.
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