Monday, October 20, 2008

Mothers



Mothers at the store

Rattle out the door

And never take me home with them--

They're funny that way.


Oh, but I'm

Cuter than cake mix,

Sweeter than summer squash,


Please,

Pretend I'm a new product

And give me a try;

Don't leave me

High and dry.


When I was small,

They called me Little Bones;

Quiet, and cold

And always alone.


Mothers at the store

Rattle out the door

And never take me home with them--

They know I'd beg to stay.

________________________________

8 comments:

Jannie Funster said...

I'd take you home! And place you in the sunniest morning window where you'd make my heart smile every time I saw you.

Mama Zen said...

"Cuter than cake mix!" What an awesome turn of phrase!

Fireblossom said...

Jannie, I had to come back and change my response to your comment.

Because....

It's the nicest comment I ever got since i started Word garden. :-)

Fireblossom said...

LOL Mama Zen, I kinda liked that, too. Thanks for reading and for your kind words. :-)

Nichole said...

I love the Laura Nyro and the Blood Sweat and Tears.

I miss the contact with you, however. Please don't tell me the Blue Meanies have capyured you once more requiring the services of Hagbard Celine and his darned yellow submarine to release you again.

O, nice poem too; butcha better just let me know you're doing well, Cookie.

Fireblossom said...

Hello, sweet sister mine. I am free and sailing the sea in my electric pink tugboat, no Blue Meanies in sight.

However it IS my six day work week, which I hate, and which tends to swallow me up and not release me until sunday. Keep your eye on the horizon, girl! ;-)

Jannie Funster said...

Oh, and great poem!! (Did I mention that?)

Fireblossom said...

I thought you never would! LOL. Thank you, Jannie. :-)