Terrible Poetry

I have to plead exhaustion as the main reason I wrote this poem, but it’s mildly amusing (at least to me). Plus there aren’t many poems about baby poop out there.

The Diaper Change

Smell of prunes,

sight of taint.

Diaper looks like its

full of paint.

Excrement smeared

under my finger.

That smell of prunes

sure does linger!

Wolfey kicks and Wolfey giggles.

Wolfey’s always full of wriggles.

But he squirms the most

when he’s had a poop,

as if to cover us both in goop.

Finally, clean diaper’s up! That’s the that sight I want.

Then Wolfe begins again to grunt.

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