In the Midnight Mist
As I was writing this poem, I had my grandson fill in the blank, but Grandma gives… not only did he give me that but the next line which I loved so much I made it my title too. Perhaps, I’m passing down poetry to the next generation.
IN THE MIDNIGHT MIST
some kids don’t hear
morning birds bidding goodbye to the moon
at noon they rise
for their bacon and pancakes
or tacos and burgers
bidding goodbye to the morning sun
all of out synch
pay no attention to the olden days
no rise and shine
no switch on the back side
spoiled and loved and spoiled
hopefully their parents whip them into shape
with their love…no belly aching
after visiting the fortress of solitude
dramatic, yes
that’s what the eight year old calls his room
here in my habitation,
but when his brother is here
he finds aggravation
or vexation from Grandpa
but Grandma gives kisses
in the midnight mist
according to a little birdie
who woke up from his nest
7/1/2023
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