Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereTo those so self righteous and self-serving,
So smug in your mundane existence,
you have no right to judge anyone who walks a different path.
A mother is no less a mother because she's not a wife
Is it fear that warrants my exclusion, or just a simple mind?
You think I’m not good enough to share your coffee
All those years when my gardens graced this street, I answered all your silly questions when you’d stop and stare.
My gardens where spectacular, crowds with blind eyes came to feast at the beauty of the blooms.
But now you just complain
My son plays at your house
He’s so polite and well behaved you tell me
As if I do not know.
As if he got that way on his own.
'I wish my sons were more your son' you say.
When I gaze into the mirror, I see a mother, daughter, sister, friend
To you I am that woman with the bastard son.
You, with the bratty rude children, putting on airs, thinking you're so superior
Open your eyes stupid women
Can you plant a garden?
Do your kids say please and may I?
Are their elbows on the table?
Yes, he opens doors for strangers, even perhaps the likes of you
A child learns from sights and sounds around him
His actions mirror what he's taught and sees at home
He is the best reflection on parenting skill there is
So cast your downward glances and whisper what you wish
You are living proof
A mother is no less a mother because she's not a wife
don't mind Aunty Muse she's not well in the cranial compartment. "Repeats things" ,,,This poem does bring up some interesting concerns so I'll mention it in the poem review for today.
You have a lot of trouble with personal pronouns, don't yous?
i deducks 4 badly speiling grammer & sin tack's,