Dadurday

“Come over,” you said through the phone by my ear.
“I’m sorry, I can’t cause it’s Dadurday here.”
We get up at 9 and have jam with our scones
And laugh at the jokes that he reads from his phone.

At quarter-past Dad it’s time to roll.
We visit the library, grab what’s on hold.
Come back to our house with books in our arms
And read about spaceships, forests and farms.

Then off to the park where we “Draw What We See.”
A pinecone for him and a leaf for me.
Spread out a blanket and lay on the ground
to sketch the beauty we see all around.

Our Dadurday ends with the tastiest thrill:
Ooiest, gooiest s’mores on the grill.
“But let’s play next week! When you come, bring your bike.
I can’t wait to show you what Friendsday is like!”