In a pretty little house, Behind a welcoming door, Lived a perfect little family - Consisting of four. The father leaned back in his chair, And sat silently thinking, Of his wife and his kids - He hadn't been drinking. The mother - a beauty - Cooked up dinner for eating, And ate with her children - She hadn't been cheating. The son was a wonder, His words could only sweeten - With eyes big and bright, He hadn't been beaten. The daughter - a dreamer - In her dreams she was flying, Slept sound in her bed - She hadn't been crying. I hate to admit - I've been simply lying.
© Bellamy Chandler
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