Mom almost screamed when I reintroduced my self.
The scream was not in response to my mental pain.
Nor was it from her sheer pleasure.
Her inner most self and her heart became instantly.
Beginning behind the white cotton cloud twice I began.
Naturally, I reacted as any young son would never react.
Beginning again I began with all my heart and might.
I almost knocked her off of her, out on all fours.
She recovered the mask beautifully,
and actually began meeting my trust with her matronly physical authority.
All that was missing was a green mile that would read.
Plug it in, plug it in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem