That bedtime call we’ve both come to expect
did not go well. Devolving to a bawl,
his parents moved to sternly disconnect
that bedtime call.

I’ve known the boy since he was four months small,
and as his visage crumpled, I felt wrecked.
Aflood with love, I didn’t move at all.

His parents weren’t wrong. I don’t object
to consequence, but sorrow I’d forestall.
We tried again, and managed to perfect
that bedtime call.

(Roundel)