The Dark Lord is a Poet

I’ve been in a Kevin blogging mood lately (in case you can’t tell).  He amuses me, what can I say?  He’s just such a funny mix of sweet, whiny, selfish, giving, smart, mentally deficient, supremely cocky, and terribly self conscious.  I go through a whirlwind of emotions with each interaction – love, frustration, pride, adoration, fury and guilt.  It’s supremely rewarding and exhausting.  I’ll miss him so much one day.  Can that day come soon enough?  Will I regret writing that last part?

Motherhood is a bitch.  Apparently, Kevin thinks so, too.  Here is his latest English assignment, an original poem that must include metaphor, hyperbole, and a rhyme scheme.  (You’ll have to read it without the benefit of seeing the aforementioned elements neatly underlined in color coded magic marker.)

A Mother’s Love

She holds the child in her arms

A protective blanket shielding it from harm

She kisses the child and strokes his head

She pats his cheeks, puffy and red

When he smiles she is engulfed with joy

For this scrawny little raisin is her newborn boy

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When he gets dirty she washes him in the tub

A mother bear looking after her cub

She gives him a million hugs each day

She tickles him if he wants to play

When he says his first word, she bubbles with pride

As long as he needs her she will stay by his side

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Even though she tries her best

The time comes when a baby bird leaves its nest

She watches her child as he goes through school

Trying to fit in, trying to be cool

But no matter how much he matures and grows

He’ll always be her baby, from his head to his toes

(printed with permission of the author)

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Again, I feel a jumble of emotions.  I want to cry and crack up at the same time.  Love you, Kev.  You’ll always be my scrawny little raisin.  Yeesh.