Wonder

My son's poem

Will I be trick-or-treating at the age of fifty-four,
Freakishly screaming for candy all alone at your door.

Will I be an Amish sheep herder who lives in Maine,
Yelling orders at my woolen towels, neighbours thinking I'm insane.

Will I be pushing my children in their toboggans down a snowy hill,
Going home for hot chocolate, we're all frozen still.

Will I be having someone who will care for me when I'm useless and old,
friendships that lasted, memories of gold.

Will I be supporting my daughter through dancing for tips,
being forced to kiss strangers, their rough perverted lips.

Will I be obsessed over image, drowned in the mirror,
no matter how I change myself, happiness never coming nearer.

Will I be huddled under a home, made of a  blanket and sticks,
With my children in their fort, inside our real home made of bricks.

Will I be a nomad roaming the desert alone with my mammals,
Needing someone to talk to, like humans I dress my camels.

Will I be on the top of the world when I'm diagnosed with cancer,
crying in prayer for help, brought to the grave with no answer.

Will I be so blessed as to find my God given soul mate,
Our only issue being language, we use Babblefish to translate.

Will I be smiling even when I don't have much,
Just my haggard hair, a shopping cart and a sidewalk to touch.

Will I be happy

Author's Note

This was written by my fifteen year old son.

Reviews

[carbodarah]

Absolutely breathtaking.
Your son has quite the talent.
To make a list poem rhyme so smoothly, be so witty, and keep rhythm all at the same time is quite the feat.
Cherish this son of yours, for he is incredibly introspective and well written.
A true marvel.