Precious Little Boy (Poem)


My precious little boy
Was born on the virgin month.
Not my son, but someone
I’d like to have a son with –
Someday –
When he gets bigger and ripe.

I feel stupid, and it hurts
That I have given my heart to a baby
Who perhaps doesn’t even know what love is,
Or how to spell it,
Or perhaps still too innocent
To see that he is hurting me.

Still on his way to adulthood
I see how he is becoming
Aphrodite’s Adonis
And if ever I see Eros lurking somewhere
I’ll curse the brat for making me
Desire a baby –
A handsome baby, naïve, carefree
Too irresponsible in the matters of the heart.

My heart can’t decide whether
I’d wait for him to grow
Because by then it might be too late –
For a heart that’s been bruising for so long
Would be unable to love soon.
I am not his mother.
Although I’d love to be.

I jumped with my two feet
In this pool of love, beckoning him
But he is still taking baby steps
So unsure and insecure.

I don’t think I can wait anymore
For my precious little boy.


--- A. C.

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