Not Wrong, a poem

“You’re not wrong,” my son says, as he strokes his black goatee, “Mom, stay strong,” my son says. With those eyes, he looks like me. Broadened shoulders, lengthened legs, he sure is stretchin’ out! He usually dons a shirt and tie because he likes the clout. “You’re not wrong,” my son says, as he drinks … Continue reading Not Wrong, a poem