Unwed, Waiting for the Bus

Oh little one

With yours in tow
Out in the morning mist.
He has the croup
And moans and coughs
You’ve cuddled and you’ve kissed.
The baby-sit
The factory waits
The hectic push and pull.
That Father gone
The spineless oaf!
He’ll miss the child, the fool.
Or maybe not
The tryst was quick
And starting from the glands.
But you’ve the prize
The quick blue eyes
Those tiny feet and hands.
And you have stepped
Up to the plate
Much sooner than you should.
But rest assured
Dear Momma-child
It’s love’s best and it’s good.
Isaiah 40: 11
Doug Blair, Waterloo, ON
Advertisements

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s