Mommy Love
My gift is Mom. Even though I'm
old and wise enough to be prime
minister, sometimes my feeling
gets gnarled up in yucky reeling
and that's when I know that this time
no matter how much I can rhyme
and pretend that things are sublime
real life insists on fact dealing.
My gift is Mom.
She holds me when I wish to climb
through the roof to commit some crime.
No, it isn't selfish stealing
it's merely me needing healing
when staid bankers deem me sub-prime.
My gift is Mom.
Copyright © Nancy Jones | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment