• A shrimpy child sits on my bed
    Bouncing, jumping,
    Poking and tapping on my head,
    “Wake up, wake up”
    The inconsiderate voice cries
    As he runs away to find,
    A delicious plate of food for me,
    So he returns shouting,
    “It’s from Mommy!”
    I turn over with a smile,
    Ruffle the silky hair on his head,
    And stare as he grins and laughs,
    Then gets a hilarious false seriousness,
    His bubbly face resisting smiling,
    And marches off
    To report to mother,
    I eat the food he brought so
    Graciously and sigh looking at the
    Time, 7:30 on a Saturday,
    He runs back in and turns the TV
    On then he cuddles up to me,
    Warming me up like a human heater,
    And sharing the meal with me, his little
    Sweet hands reaching for the fork
    And he begins giggling with me
    At the ridiculous cartoons spewed
    Across the TV screen.