I write this through a pleasant fog of tiredness….
It has become a ritual.
At precisely 4 o’clock we have tea.
Tea and toast that is.
Dad suggests it, I fool that I am agree
The trouble with this plan is not plain for him to see
But I know that when he has relaxed and needs no more,
I alone am left to tidy, sweep and get on with my day while he simply starts to snore,
Left feeling that again I have been duped
Because it is 4am and not 4pm