'Milk Mans Son' - Poem by Linda Winchell
Some say I look like the Milk Man
but I can't figure out just why.
I know he use to deliver milk to our home
I use to see his Milk truck daily passing by.
My Mother would some times invite him in
for cookies and a tall glass of fresh milk.
He would sit me on his knee while visiting
and bounce me like I was on a bucking horse.
My mom would send me off to bed
after kissing me good night.
And then she'd turn some music on
and dim our front room lights.
I wouldn't hear a peep from her
as the music put me to sleep.
But come the morning I would always see
an empty milk bottle and two glasses in the sink.
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