Youngest's 11th special day.
No party.
No sleepover.
No bouncy play.
You promised, he never had to say.
Split over cancelled tests:
a pig in its sty, snuffling and grunting
between fizz and fizzle,
chocolate and seclusion.
It'll all be new in September.
He already talks of school, teachers and friends as absent.
Like they’re gone.
But
Like Lego not finished.
Like the scooter overgrown with grass.
Like words dropped from a vocabulary.