Inheritance
My mother didn’t cook too well
Although she fed us fine.
Her house was not immaculate,
Much messier than mine.
She didn’t knit, crochet or quilt
But she was great at sports;
She swam and bowled and tennised
Really well, by all reports.
And oh, could she dance up a storm!
She crossword-puzzled, too.
When things were good or bad for me,
Somehow, she always knew.
She passed down many of her traits
But no, I cannot dance
And barely swim but I can bowl,
Though rarely have the chance.
I do the crossword every day
But like her, hate to cook.
While she escaped in naps,
I disappear inside a book.
We all have inclinations
That our parents have bestowed,
Though babies make us wonder
What is waiting down the road.
We hope that they’ll inherit
Just those qualities we’d pick
But we have no way of knowing
What will fade and what will stick.
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