Called Mom

She jumps rope and she also plays jacks Her legs are all bruised, still too young to wax, She then runs and climbs and does a twirl. She doesn't care or worry about her skinny knees Or if someone else has coughed or did sneeze, She is just a sweet little timid girl. She is in the metamorphose of her years Not yet listening or yet caring for her peers, Soon though it becomes her result. She thinks about herself as always first As though she should always be reimbursed, But, then to soon she will become an adult. She never thinks about the food upon her plate All that she cares about is that she has ate, Then one day, she will go to her prom. But, for now she rides her bike and she hates all boys Dolls and makeup are still her favorite toys, Happily one day, she will be called a mom. Randy L. McClave