Is it cannon fire? The building shakes!
Cat disappears, dog shrinks and quakes.
No war machine, no grown-man’s toy;
It’s the upstairs neighbors’ little boy.
That angel’s face! Those demon screams
greet us each dawn, disturb our dreams.
He stomps, he slams, he brings them joy,
The upstairs neighbors’ little boy.
What can they do, but apologize?
What can we do, but roll our eyes
Toward the trembling ceiling,
and nerve-shattering noise
Of the upstairs neighbors’ little boy.
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six