Different Colors
There comes a time,
In every man’s life,
When he has “that discussion”
With his ever loving wife,
When she says: “We’re done
Our family is big enough”,
I think you need to go see the doc,
Then we won’t need to use the glove,
So it’s off to see the specialist,
And he tells me what to expect,
But when he told me about the process,
My boys thought twice about it,
Well, we decided it was worthwhile,
Loving “au natural”, will be great,
No more worrying about little swimmers,
Or her dreadfully saying: “I’M LATE”.
So here I lay a-wondering,
If the clipping is worth the trouble,
Though the aching and swelling I’m sure will pass,
Right now, I’m bent over double,
Yes, pain killers and ice kinda help,
But that freezing chills me to the core,
Yet, If I’d have known the many colors they would turn,
I might have thought twice about dropping my drawers.
Yes, I have been gone for a while,
This little poem might help you understand.
My poem: Different Colors.
By Tracey
© 2011 Tracey
(All rights reserved)
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