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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #896026
My Four Sons
Another exercise from the Bridging the Years Writer's Workshop.

My Boys

My
Fighting, trashing, eating machines
Lazy, crazy, video game fools
Teasing, playful, silly comedians
Stay up late; Sleep till noon
The TV reigns supreme
The bathroom Is
Boys' Territory
Except
When it's time to
Clean it!

One kid
Walks
With confidence high
Peers
At the world with a
Humorous
Cynical eye
Not necessarily his
Brothers' pal
But-- he generally is
His mother's!

The next
while
not terribly shy
Keeps his world
Deep inside
No master of sports
(Or any chore!)
He adores to toil in the soil
Bugs and beetles, ants and plants . . .
But FIRSTLY
He loves
Anything edible!

The youngest-
Ah, such a rogue
With wide expressive
Puppy Eyes
Daddy's boy
A pal and a pest
Instigating
Amusing
Little Prankster
Is
The Pookster!

The Eldest
Finally nesting
On His Own
Discovering, now, after
All These Years . . .
That
Yes, yes, yes!!!
We Really Did
KNOW
What
We Were Talking About!

Yep
They nag, test, and rebel,
They fight, trash, and Inhale my
Groceries before I get them in the door . . .
Ah, they love to laugh.
And
Drive Me
Looney
But NIX them
And I'm
NOTHING!





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