by Gregg E. Brickman
My child, I truly and steadfastly love you a lot,
But sometimes I wish you were something you’re not.
I wish you were happy with smiles all around,
Or that you’d quit clowning and try on a frown.
I wish you were strong to hold evil at bay,
Or small and compact to slip out of its way.
I wish you were successful, upstanding, and smart,
Or that you’d just finish something you start.
I wish you would marry. Grandchildren I’d adore,
But please, move slowly, divorce is a chore.
I wish your life yielded all things you desire,
And that your heart’s pleasures would always inspire.
I wish you could see me just as I am,
But then, looking back, maybe you can.
(This just spilled out of my head. Feel free to comment, critique, suggest edits, or correct my novice poem writing technique. I’d appreciate the input. )