I swell with sorrow for my wrinkled mom
when mothers freshly cowed air bounding sons
with smiling satisfaction for their sum
of purpose won from clinging little ones.
Who play so gaily in the greening park,
who squeal and grin completely rapt by bliss
yet reel and run a backward glance to mark
the bench where mother mouths her flirting kiss.
I once was such a nursery charm as these,
a cherub boy with pleading eyes to set
maternal lust alight with looks that please
her appetite to feel esteemed, as yet
the growing child steps ceaselessly away
so soon to wreck her most exalted day.
2007