Poem for my son’s ninth


You are nine.

I’m trying.


To squeeze an extra syllable in

to this a short, short life

that is getting longer by the minute.


On knees I pray with willable grin

that you avoid long, longing strife

that your balloon not burst, even with a pin in it.


Oh please take time my filial kin

tho each of our hours is rife

with bittersweetness and echoes of the infinite.

About MotherJam

Trying to be insightful. But mostly just avoiding housework and ignoring my children.
This entry was posted in Parenting, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Poem for my son’s ninth

  1. wordsaep says:

    Beautifully written.

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