Don't Come In!
My daughter keeps me out of her room
when she’s got the glue gun in her hand.
She always says No thanks, Dad
when she’s in construction land.
I wonder what she’s making
and whether it should be banned.
When I hear the sound of drilling
I think about making a stand.
When I bought her a toy hammer
this wasn’t what I had planned.
My worries are set in concrete
when they deliver gravel, cement and sand.
It comes in through her window
and I hear each pallet land.
Then I hear the floor creak
and the ceiling crack
and the window break
and the door splinter
and
Dad? Would you like to come in?
when she’s got the glue gun in her hand.
She always says No thanks, Dad
when she’s in construction land.
I wonder what she’s making
and whether it should be banned.
When I hear the sound of drilling
I think about making a stand.
When I bought her a toy hammer
this wasn’t what I had planned.
My worries are set in concrete
when they deliver gravel, cement and sand.
It comes in through her window
and I hear each pallet land.
Then I hear the floor creak
and the ceiling crack
and the window break
and the door splinter
and
Dad? Would you like to come in?
This poem is copyright (©) Rob Walton 2022

About the Writer
Rob Walton
Rob is a writer, performer and teacher from Scunthorpe, who now lives with his daughters in Whitley Bay, from where he travels to perform in schools and libraries. He writes poetry and short fiction for children and adults. His poetry for children has featured in various anthologies published by, among others, The Emma Press, Bloomsbury, Frances Lincoln and Macmillan. He breeds pencil sharpeners and spends most Sunday afternoons working as a chiropodist in Ohio.