"The Baby Maker"A Poem by JamesA fun trip into family life"When I was eighteen I swore to be single free to play and always mingle. And later after all my friends had settled to married life the poor beasts eternally chained to their wives; I went home every night and dreamed in my head of the beautiful girl who would soon share my bed. Each night, I swear it seemed A different maiden would come visit me. They were all gorgeous, glorious and kind but none of them would get very much of my time. Because you see I was not interested in settling down and buying a home on a plot of ground. Until one night in a drunken mood I accidentally started my brood. She was not my typical fare, but I took her home anyway and treated her square. We danced and played late into the night then she left, gone from my sight. I admit, I thought of her from time to time which troubled me deeply, because I was in my prime So another dear prize, I set out to find. I needed a distraction to get her off my mind. But she was sealed in my brain, different than the rest and I saw her one day warming an egg in her nest. Cautiously I approached her and bid her good morning. She sheepishly smiled and said “glad to see you, darling.” I wondered aloud at the roundness beneath her apron and learned that I was indeed the unfortunate patron. I must admit that I thought to bid her adieu, but instead hurried to the Court House where we said: “I do.” I bought a home for my new bride, close to town and a train to ride. A little cottage with two bedrooms one for us and one for you know whom. It was a lovely place, painted a shade too bright and at times just a touch too tight. Then one night in a raging storm a lovely baby girl to us was born. Her head was a little warped and wrinkled, but her eyes were bright and I swore they twinkled. A more beautiful story could never be told than the birth of a child, bare and bold. As the seasons changed and our fortunes grew so too did the size of our bustling crew. After ten years of marriage to my blissful mate the size of our home had risen to eight. Our tiny white cottage long forgotten, for we had bought a farm only slightly downtrodden. And there we lived peacefully for years wiping noses and drying tears, schooling and coaching our children along; dreading the day when they would all be gone. Until one night my bride stirred me awake
and another baby, that night we would make. © 2016 JamesFeatured Review
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