[Previously titled “Poems for my 5-year old”]
I was sorting through some old, old files today and came across some poems I wrote back then. Two little ditties were inspired by my son, who was 5 years old at the time:
I made him mad the other day.
Things got a little thick.
He locked me out and hung a sign:
“I hate you, Mom. Love, Rick”
The Moving Finger
I knew we’d come to this one day.
The writing’s on the wall.
The trouble is, the writer’s five
And writing in my hall.