I found this gem cleaning off my desk tonight

He was 9 months old then…
I would rather have no time for poetry
if it’s because
I’m your mother
Loving you in my arms
struggling to grow
Engrossed in a pile
of toys
needing to be waited on…tended to
enjoyed…kissed…hugged…and fed
Then, later, when you sleep
or in a cafe at 11am while you watch
talk to lights
drop keys and wonder
where the rice puffs are
I will write a poem for you

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