by | Dec 3, 2007 | Poetry | 0 comments

The third trimesters come and gone.
The sleepless nights now follow on,
The joy that ensues after pain.
Don’t worry! You’ve got much to gain.

Ten tiny fingers and ten toes,
That cherub mouth, that button nose.
Those big green eyes, just like his dad
Who now thinks he is Jack-the Lad.

You’d think that he’d done all the work,
That giving birth was just a perk
Of being married to the man
Who’s proved to all the world -“I can”.

Where is he when the washer breaks?
He’s down the pub with all his mates!
And when you need to have a rest?
He’s out the door and heading west!

He’ll show his son off to his friends
While mommy runs around and tends
To washing diapers or a bib.
She’ll put the blame on Adam’s rib!

This will continue through the years.
Mom will shed many silent tears.
The time will pass, he’ll come of age
And take his place upon life’s stage.

But momma’s worries never end
They double with the first girlfriend!
She has to learn to let him go,
To keep her profile way down low.

Just be there for him to the end.
As guidance, counsellor and friend,
Plus banker, laundress and much more!
If you’ve got kids you’ll know the score!


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