You ping incessantly at me
Come here woman!
Thrice reheated May I add.
It really doesn’t taste that bad
You beep and chirp your merry song.
Come and get your coffee.
Your coffee is done!
The problem dear microwave, is I have small people in this cave.
They don’t much care for mama’s hot drinks.
They prefer to squirt toothpaste down the sink.
They hear you ping.
Milk milk they cry!
No! It’s Mummy’s coffee time.
Then they whinge and wine and mutter.
Play doh time come over here mother.
This I really must supervise
or an evil plan they will devise.
Which for me means much swearing and scrubbing
as the bastard stuff sticks in the carpet and cushions.
Ping ping, beep beep, chime, ding dong!
Still the microwave sings its merry song.
I’m knee deep in toys and the washing is not done.
Ping beep ping
come and get it it chirps.
Oh god! Is that poo on my shirt?
Maybe later my coffee will be hot.
Or maybe not.
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