12 February 2007

A Poem For Sprout

This week is number 18.
You are curled up warm and snug,
well past the seahorse phase,
or so the book says,
and onto the sweet potato---
every week a new fruit or vegetable
to measure your progress.
Technically, though, this one's a tuber---
book's not as smart as it thinks.

But we measure you differently,
especially your mom
who is in the popcorn phase,
the trampoline phase,
or maybe the tiny drummer phase,
unseen musician, tapping out approval
of a world unknown.

Last night you liked Alvin Ailey's Dance Troupe.
It was a one-kick show.
We've learned you like chocolate.
That's two at least.
And Chinese food's great, too;
Three for General Tso.
Red meat's the top;
Five for Five Guys, one per guy, I suppose.

what we can't figure
is when you'll arrive.
Can you make it the Ides of July?
When you get a chance---let us know.
Two if yes. One if no.

--By Dad-To-Be


Anonymous Simone Vozzolo said...

What a great poem!!!! That is perfect!

8:17 AM  
Blogger Last Robot said...

Nice! :-)

5:50 PM  

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