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Dedicated to My Son, The Bedtime Kissy-Keeper Giver


Like a virgin to stressed messes surging,
I struggled with bridges on parental ridges
when I wore both mom and work britches.
Young years adhered pleasure steered twitches
but grown changes sewed pressure stitches.
I changed to a day and night striving
female getter-doner; an energizer twit-nit
who conquered to-do lists into done bits.
I became every weekday employee,
pay postured towards green seen garnered.
I was more a get-byer than I was a
future green funds keen accumulator.
Nightly, I morphed into dinner’s meal cooker
still dressed in work time's pantyhose stress.
I dreamed of a pajama seamed frame
before next becoming a kitchen mess cleaner,
homework tutor, tub time clean scrubber and
loving night-nighttime book reader.
I found no awakes take was sweeter 
than my child’s beddy-bye kissy keepers
and prayed my son’s most precious styled love
would counter the stresses that I was made of.

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