Passion

I told my friends the reason I had kids.
I said if I were childless, I’d age
to be the weird old lady who forbids
their noise and games. I wouldn’t use a cage
or torture them with witchy appetite,
but neither would I open my front door.
I might not lecture or appear a fright,
but I would be a neighbor to ignore.

That really wasn’t true, although in fact
I like alone and quiet very much.
I didn’t know until my first arrived
how vehement my love would be. It cracked
my heart wide open, worked in passion’s clutch.
And ever since reminds me I’m alive.

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