The Poet Mom

A quick scan of my closet

Reveals the dismal truth.

The stained T’s and cropped yoga pants

Have replaced the haute couture of my youth.

How did this happen?

And why didn’t anyone shout,

“Hey, you, Lady!

Back away from the discount T-shirt rack.”

I have a good idea when I went astray.

It was the day I made the discovery

That the one who loves all things dirty, grimy, and buggy

Meant more to me than any finery.

My garments are comfy and practical.

They reliably stay the course.

And when they finally cave under the pressure,

It’s into the rubbish bin with no remorse.

I take heart knowing the day will come

When I can again look my best

Someday all too soon

When those filthy angels finally flee the nest

Until that day arrives,

I’ll wear my uniform with pride.

For every sticky fingered hug

Makes me feel like a super model inside.