May 6, 2008
By Chad Bernstein, New City, NY

My mother always says,
You’re going to be me some day,
But I always wonder,
When is that “some day” going to be?
I don’t look like my mother,
Who is appealing in every way.
My mother can eat five worms at once,
But I throw up after two.
My mother grooms herself,
And when she is done,
She has to groom me, too.
She is tall and lean,
I am just scrawny.
I try and I try,
But I can not fly.
I don’t think that day,
Will ever come,
Where I turn out to be,
My mother.

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