A Reply As To Why I Write Poem by Not Long Left

Imagine a child
sitting in their room
cross legged,
painting their mother
a picture.
On this paper
is an outpour of love;
multi coloured emotion.
With a feeling of pride
and excitment on seeing
his mothers face
he skips down the stairs,
picture in hand, holding
it like it was a jewel
emblazoned crown.
Mother he says
with a tinge of nerves
'I have done this for you'
Mother looks up at her son
Eye meets eye.
And says
'Take this away this very
second before the paint
stains the carpet,
have you nothing better to do'
Tears form, fall and flow.
Coloured drops of sadness
run down the page.
Imagine the pain;
the utter confusion.
Then you might understand
why I spend so little time
with you and so much
with my pen and paper.