By: Martin Richard Nelson

My little helper
goes by the name of Bob
keeping me company
with all my never-ending jobs.
Always by my side
working, oh so well.
Can I do without him?
Can I? Bloody hell!

One day, early spring
outside painting our house,
"I'll help you, daddy",
fell happily from his mouth.
painting wall and floor
painting window sill
painting everything...
that stood remotely still.

I turned for a second
(a cup of tea I think)
he disappeared in a
momentary blink.
Paint was on his clothes
in his hair, in his mouth
and all around his eyes.
Oh, spotty white chameleon
impossible to recognize.

Then came the papering
(oh, joyous time for all)
"I'll help you daddy"
came a far off, friendly call.
Old clothes, donned in a flash
baseball hat on head
brush in hand, paste in bucket
normalcy abruptly departed.

He enjoyed, oh so much
this gluey, glumpy feeling
of pasty little hands
of pasty face, then sneezing
from his pasty little nose
'twas pasty every place.
He having the appearance
of a monster from outer space.

Finally at the end of his day
he'll fall asleep, contented
(after his tea and a wee play)
dreaming of things not mended.
And I'll think to myself
if God has his way
that my little helper
will grow up strong one day
with his own little helper
by his side
working through his day.

He is my little toolbox of life
my hammer
my saw
my strength.

For Bob