Dear World

Look, we need to have a chat.

I’m getting a bit fed up

with dealing with the fall out

of your drama.

And it’s not only that,

my son keeps waking up

crying, calling my name out.

I’m trying to teach him about karma.

You see, he’s noticed (as have I)

that the bad guys keep winning.

Every time I leave the house

without him he cries.

I don’t want to raise a fearful child.

and his awareness is just beginning

but with news of more killings day in, day out

he’s convinced I’m going to die.

Not helped when I say

“Well, one day, I will”

through desire to tell him the truth.

So he says “But not today?”

And I’m swept over ill

tempting fate to give me liar’s proof.

So look, World I’m asking

you to buck your ideas up.

I love to share in positives

and I’m sick of masking

cracked ideals in cover ups.

Show them you get back what you give.

Sincerely,

Georgia. Xxxx

Baby Weight

If love is love as love should be,

then why does it enslave, not free?

Love is a power - nay, a force

that rivals all but gravity

and as said best by Spiderman:

"Power is responsibility".

You, the product of our love;

that spiralling arcing meteor.

Those fireworks, rockets, sleepless nights

that bred into a lifetime more.

And slavery was none more false

for waged I am by your sweet smile;

to relive that first one again

I'd crawl on cliche a million miles.

The perfume of your morning hair

outweighs the months of colicked hell.

To watch you grow and learn and love

I'd give again my childless self.

The birth of you one snowy day

shackled me with steely bonds.

But witnessing your joyful play

is all the freedom I could want.