The Scaffolding Next Door
The house next to ours has long metal poles
and wooden slabs surrounding the front door.
Dad says, It’s scaffolding for builders
to stand on while they fix things up high.
I say … it’s a giant’s bedside table, a dangerous
game of Jenga, an oddly put together giraffe.
Dad says, No, it’s scaffolding.
I say … it’s the skeleton of a T-Rex, an exploded
xylophone, a tipped out cutlery drawer.
Dad says, No, it’s scaffolding.
I say … Dad can’t see what I can.
and wooden slabs surrounding the front door.
Dad says, It’s scaffolding for builders
to stand on while they fix things up high.
I say … it’s a giant’s bedside table, a dangerous
game of Jenga, an oddly put together giraffe.
Dad says, No, it’s scaffolding.
I say … it’s the skeleton of a T-Rex, an exploded
xylophone, a tipped out cutlery drawer.
Dad says, No, it’s scaffolding.
I say … Dad can’t see what I can.
This poem is copyright (©) Carl Burkitt 2024
About the Writer
Carl Burkitt
Carl likes telling tales. He tells long tales, short tales, silly tales, sad tales. He tells them online, behind a mic, in books, in schools, and on the sofa with his young family. His debut kids’ collection, Elephants Sleep in Bunk Beds, was published by Beir Bua in 2021.
