Poem: Time With Her Son



They walk the aisles of Kroger,
she steering the cart,
emboldened by the sturdy handle,
the steady wheels,
to stand a little straighter,
walk a bit quicker,
her grown son by her side,
reaching for coffee, oatmeal, eggs, lemon drops,
she talks of neighbors, politics, aches and pains,
the son shares worries about his kids,
his wife’s quilting hobby,
his new boss at work,
at the checkout, she writes a check in her finest cursive,
unaware of the impatient line forming behind,
she pays no mind,
for this is her time with her son,
and she will not hurry
these precious moments they share,
so she pauses by the celebrity magazines,
she asks what he thinks about Jennifer Aniston
and whether she’ll ever have a baby and isn’t it terrible
that she and Brad Pitt didn’t stay together,
and her son says that was a long time ago mom,
Brad Pitt has about six kids now with Angelina Jolie,
his mother looks at him in shock,
something to think about this week,
maybe next week she’ll buy one of those magazines,
then they’ll have even more to talk about on their weekly excursion to Kroger.

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