Simple Pleasure
I walk on tip-toes in the dark
To take another awe-struck peep
A perfect, tiny, masterpiece
In blue pajamas, wrapped in sleep.
My best creation, born of love
Whose life my soul perchance reflects
And every nuance of his face
My joyous heart again inspects.
An artist with her greatest art
Whose work has only just begun
Each day will add a color, stroke
To this, my canvas, called "My Son."
And nothing else this mother needs
Not food, not shelter, or even rest
But to gaze upon my greatest work
This simple pleasure is the best.
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