He is small
And quiet
In the seat
Beside me,
My invitations
To join
Gathering
At his feet.
He shrugs
My touch from
His shoulder
And
Squeezes
His eyes
Tight
Against the shudder.
I watch the shine
In his eyes
Grow bold
Into tears.
He sets his jaw
And swallows
A whisper,
“You were crying again.”

If we're together
When we're older,
If one's not left for another,
If one's not dead,
Or out of sorts
Or imprisoned on an institutional bed;
Let me tell what lies ahead.

We'll go to sleep wearing socks,
And rise by our internal clocks;
While on walks we'll hold hands,
And listen while the other talks.
We'll sit content by the St. Clair River
In Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter.

We'll have our tea and buttered toast,
On weekends enjoy your Sunday Roast.
Around the table our children sit,
With grandkids we're blessed to be with.
Then, in the evening, when all are gone,
And we're in our home of homes,
I'll confess my love again;
You're all I've wanted all along.

There is nothing
on this planet more beautiful
than seeing a daughter's smile
in her mother's eyes
even when heartache is an
ingredient for something so heavenly.
The sun and moon could learn so much
from this baby girl’s warmth and glow.

This is the sad song
Of men and women
Who create offspring
When they don’t like children.
They set their minds up
To repeatedly bear them
To avoid askance looks
And any open criticism.

So they suffer and complain
About what a heavy burden
It is for them to have to
Put up with their children.
Each day with the rugrats
Nets no child any praise
They see not much beauty
In the offspring they raise.

If a soul deprived mother
Never felt love of her own
She has none to spare,
No patience to condone.
The talk of these parents
Is of not having any peace,
No time of their own then,
No feeling of surcease.

It’s as if a child born
Has but few years to grow
Before needing to be an adult
Who will automatically know.
That they must know to parent
The sick adult needy one
Who doesn’t seem to like them
Or anything much they have done.

This is the sad tune of those
Who made many awful choices
But still have no use for any
Of loving, advising voices.
It’s a song too many sing;
The music heart breaking,
Yet few of those parents know
The sense of trust they are taking.

I can’t understand moms.
They love you, but really turn your life into hell.

Within the warm ***** grows
A child no one yet knows.
But she gives them love regardless,
Not needing words to give her bliss-
A mother and child.

Within the warm house grows
A child first using their toes.
And she cant help but cry in glee,
She never knew she was so motherly-
A mother and child.

The warmed house slowly grows colder,
The small child now older and bolder.
She's challenged by them over small things,
The love they have now paired with a sting-
A mother and child.

The once warm house now devoid
Sits in the darkness of isolation.
But a motherly spirit can't be destroyed,
Even if we must let go of our creations-
The mother then smiled.

being your daddy means
being patient even
when you won’t go to bed

being your daddy means
loving you even
when I’m so tired

being your daddy means
showing up as I am
and doing the best I can

If only parents behaved the way they expect their children to act.

"You don't understand what it's like to be a parent.
Until you become one."

"But, I know one thing, and only one thing for sure.
I"ll never force my dreams on my kids."