What do you do
when your child
is a drop out?
Do you encourage them
to be whatever they want to be?
Do you express
your disappointment and anger?
Do you succumb
to the despair of being a failed parent?
Or do you try to continue
to figure out the best things
for both of you?
If I could write a book
it would mean I believed in myself.
If I could write a nook
it would show those who had no faith in me.
If I could write a book
it would mean I did what I dreamed of.
If I could write a book
I would be happy.
If I could write a book
and people liked it
is something I still dream of.
Only a series of hours.
Sleep.
Tossing and turning.
Missing them.
Wishing I could have brought them with me.
Happy to be home.
Cuddles amid the purrs.
Glad to hear their meows.
Reality crashes through
the expectations
or more realistically
the estimated results desired.
Time flies by quicker
and you are forced to realize
what you hoped for
is probably just
an overly optimistic wish.
Whether they use words or fists,
Hisses or claws,
It simply breaks a mother’s heart
each time it happens.
Helplessness is never a great feeling.
Yet sometimes all you can do is show you love them.
No matter who instigated the fight.
Signs will show.
Things change.
Behaviours once common
now become distinct in their absence.
Everybody’s welfare must be met.
Including the pets.
They are family after all.
Holiday is coming up.
Chocolate is preferred.
Some may like the eggs.
Or the bunnies of marshmallow.
Just don’t prank the kids on the morning thereof.
To add something
you need to know
what to add.
Plus it helps
if you know
what you are adding to.
Otherwise
you might get some
unexpected results.
Dungeons to explore.
Dragons to fight.
Or steal from.
Friends to adventure with.
Trouble to find.
Or help for the poor villagers.
Games to bring us all together.
Musings on life.
Bring it on.
Pasta Riveria.
Sowing wild oats.
Nothing quinoa about this.
Saturn's Premier Poet 