When Did This Happen? Poem by Robin Bennett

I remember when you were my baby boy-
All Thanksgiving turkey sized and
burrito wrapped, nestled in that
special nook crook in my arms.

I was sure you'd never grow up
and run away.
But, you did.
You're all six feet and something, towering
over me. You could beat me to death
if you wanted.
But, I'm your mother. Why would you?

When did you get half way to thirty?
You don't need Mommy anymore,
that's for damn sure.
You have your own house, complete
with a Welcome doormat.
I don't even have to feed you anymore,
you exist on hamburger helper and
frozen lasagna from Walgreens.

You even have sex with
different women.
The bed never gets made in
the mornings either.
You called a couple of weeks
ago to say you weren't
feeling well at all.

My baby asked if I could make
him some soup-
and bring some 7-up?
Sometimes, a man just needs
his Mom.