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 a gulp of tea

Plain white rice and sushi are his favorite things to eat.

“You’re not wrong,” he says to me, thinking critically,

though he’s all grown up, he’ll always be my baby sweet.

One thought on “Not Wrong, a poem

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s