3/365

In the park
there’s a man kneeling
holding a tiny red and black bike
next to a small boy
crying.

His face is scared and tough
and trying to keep it together.

Shallow,
quick breaths
drying tears
balled fists.

Just the right balance between:
“Toughen up son,”
and “let me hold you,”
are crucial
for the future of society.

On the couch
I was poking, and
snuggling, and
pinching, and
hugging, and
lightly punching
my daughter:
exhibiting
tender affection
whilst we watched television.

Pulled her fingers too hard
cracking her knuckles,
“Ow dad!”

“Apologise to her.”
My wife’s tone
serious like a verdict.

Just the right balance between:
“Toughen up,”
and “I’m sorry,”
are crucial
for the future of society.