All Parents' Hearts At Times Sink Like A Soufflé Poem by Mark Heathcote

We, teenage children, bring tears of dismay
hold your breath, and countdown before you scold.
'Look! Father Christmas, won't come be foretold'
do not be naughty, do not disobey,
we'll give you some leeway call it naiveté.
At times, disappointments by the truckload
come—stay, won't go-away-take the high road.
We try; we try not to shout, get angry
but try as we might, it's a battleground-
all parents' hearts at times sink like a soufflé.
Screaming like seagulls makes no one happy
as parents, we look for some common ground
and relate a lesson we've learned the hard way.