It’s the end of the day, the work is done

My home sucks me in with warm moist air and protection from all that is undone

The keys clack down on the table, my coat sways to settle still on the peg

Muffled voices and giggles and knocks and clangs come from behind doors and down stairs

And from here and there then become sharper as my presence becomes known to the throng

The telly spits into life when I click the magic wand and The News spews into the room and around my head as the sound starts to settle as silt in a pond

The couch grunts as it folds its nylon fat around my aching trunk and the day creeps away into history as my tired eyes watch buffed up presenters read unseen words behind my head

My innards begin a hungry whimper as we all become a cosy and comfortable blend

So warm, so comfy and...

Dad! – the dog’s shit in the kitchen again