My Son

Today he flew in his little cape
Held together with masking tape.
Flying off chairs he was Spider Man,
Bloodying his nose he was Peter Pan.
His tool bench became his sleigh
To bring the toys on Christams day.
He drove his backhoe through the dirt,
And wiped his nose upon my skirt.


He cut his lip playing
dinasour,
Then pinched his finger
in the door.
He climbed the gnarled
apple trees
In search of Pooh Bears
honeybees.
Now he's sleeping
on the bed,
What dreams are in
his little head?