Where were you at two in the morning?
I found your clothes in a heap on your bed.
Who were you with and what were you up to?
I wondered, worried, and thought you were dead.

I have a right to know that you’re safe;
a right not to worry that you’re up to no good.
I have the right to believe what you tell me,
And know that you’re doing just what you should.

I could put bars over your windows.
Perhaps an alarm on the back door would do.
I don’t think I could prevent your escaping,
So I’m thinking this time, that I’m really through.

Go sneak out the window if it makes you feel better.
Walk out the door, or better yet, run.
When I get the call to tell me you’re injured,
I’ll say “you must be mistaken, I have no son".

A son would think twice about hurting his mother,
and doing things that cause her to cry.
A son would try hard to protect her feelings.
He might not know how, but at least he would try.

I’m sure that you do have someone there with you,
A child that is injured, or bleeding, or dead.
But if I had a son, he wouldn’t cause me to worry.
He’d be where he should be, at home in his bed.

I wish you luck in finding his mother.
I know she sits waiting for someone to call.
I’m sure that right now, she’s pacing the floor.
And because she’s his mother, she can’t sleep at all.



Lavender Leigh
September 27, 2007