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.
Passers By
By Franklin Price
10/27/2017
As passers by are passing by,
Do you wonder what to say?
Do you wonder where they're going?
Will they pass again your way?
Is the place they're going happy?
Does their step give you a hint?
Are they going 'cause they want to?
Or is the reason, they were sent?
If they are passers by,
Then you're a passer byer too
Nod your head and smile and say
“Hello”, and “how are you?”
Most likely they'll return the smile
And the words you had to say
And passers by just passing by
Helped make each other's day
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