Am no typically bake sale mom,

My forte cant ever feed you nom,

I can do no cupcakes or brownies,

But with me around there some,

will make no room for frownies,

Lots of imagination and funnies,

Will make one lose track of runnies,

The vast spectacle of the universe,

Is always ready for some inverse,

Tiger parenting is now so passé,

The proverbial ROI so unnecessary,

As the cherubic thugs live free,

Life particularly so easy and breezy,

Arting about the topsy-turvy world,

There is much to do, to be heard,

In the poetry of Keats, Wordsworth,

Daffodils to smell, hugs to trees of girth,

Much ado to them Shakespeare’s words,

The many worlds to see and paths to twirl,

Beats of fun, in weathering beautiful curls,

For there are aplenty roads to take forth,

That lead to happiness and personal growth,

In tomes of text may we bury ourselves,

Or take the high road across the felts,

Through starry nights and sunny shells,

Maybe dance to the tunes that utterly melts,

Use them senses with all their snuggy dwells,

What I can do is still pretty clear; and

that is to love you unconditionally dear!