As I lay on the back of my Grandma’s porch
Staring into the dreary sky
A mix of grey and white
I thought of you, and I thought of having kids with you
My mind skipped over the process
For I was thinking not fantasizing
And landed in the future, and I looked at the person playing me
A happy working dad, whose sons would be just the perfect color
Not even two years apart in age
Our kids would be so lovely…
I look at you, tall, black, beautiful, mine
And wondered would that ever be
Would it even happen in the first place
Would you help me change into that happy person
Or at least one who has no problem smiling without having to laugh
One unplagued by a countenance of dread
One who could be approached and liked by many
Instead of being lucky to have only a few
Our children, our young men, seemed so glad to be alive
Jumping and playing, Mommy Mommy, Daddy Daddy
And we knew we’d have to buy them something
So we looked at each other and smiled
I hate illusions of grandeur.