Toilet Paper Roll

It’s a wonder to me
how it came to be
That the TP was replaced
Since my wife and I
Don’t always try
To restock the wiper of waste.

Must have been someone we know
Who put the roll upon our spindle
As a guest who really had to go
And replace our paper dwindle.

‘Cause often our roll sits perfectly still
To be picked up off of the window sill
Then slowly unwound in my hand
Before it’s placed on end, to stand

Wherever it is I can reach,
On the edge of the bath tub or sink.
This thought process I preach
Won’t stop when I do to think

“wow, it’s time to replace the roll”
‘Cause loading the spindle evades me
as I avoid the awkward stroll
with an extra roll that aides me.

Before my Children get up

I could go back to sleep, but this silence rests in my open eyes
Slouched and couched I dream of turning the coffee on, to my surprise
I already did that, but it’s two rooms away smelling strongest.
This duration of listening to white noise could be my longest.

I let coffee make slurps in the other room rather than get up
In my final moments of solitude I’ll slowly fill my cup.
Until isolation’s interrupted by a child’s crying
I’ll be sitting on the couch with my feet up calmly denying

that my solitude runs clockwise ’till kids get up and out of bed.
Somedays this spitup covered boppy should stay lodged under my head.