BATTLE

Me and my son and the battles lost and won.

Who’s in charge at any given time is,

I’m ashamed to say debatable.

My un-sureness, masked as authority, to his sharp eye,

is more often than not, detectable.

His eleven-year old wisdom, at times,

reveals my forty-one year old wisdom as deflatable.

And the reason that comes from his mouth,

at those times, is most convicting and detestable.

So I grudgingly hand him the win with an attitude

similar to, but not quite, respectable.

And I choose another battle.

© 2010 Groshonda McDonald