Little Kid Upstairs

(a sonnet by Renée)

Oh child who lives upstairs and runs by day
And by night, sweet child, so that sleep comes not
And ev’rytime I hear you I think, nay,
I shant strike with a fire so very hot.

But if one more time I hear your footsteps,
Elephantine in their tiny nature,
Then the time will have come for me to schlep,
Ax in hand, and confront you in anger.

And if this day ever occurs, don’t fear
For humanity will be my concern.
I’ll knock on your door when the time is near
See your small face and shamefully adjourn

My return will mark t-rex laps anew
Be wary, small one, the end of the broom