'Where Are You Going Son? ' Poem by Linda Winchell

Where are you going son?
with your little bag so neatly packed?
I thought you went upstairs as told
to lay down and take your nap?

I know you were very angered
when I had to pull you from your play.
But a little man such as you
has to get his naps each day.

So, is it that your leaving home?
Because you didn't want to mind?
I didn't mean to sound so stern
or treat your playmates, what you feel unkind.

Where is it that your leaving too?
And can old mommy come along?
I promise to let you play outside
even if I feel it's much too long.

What will we do my son?
If you are to go away?
We will never have anything to listen to
in the backyard when you played.

Now I see you've had a change of heart
and you want mom to tuck you into bed?
I'll pull the covers over you son
and place a kiss upon your head.

Sleep tight my son, my grown up little man
I see somethings now I must change.
I never want to see again
your little packed bag, or sadness a nap had made.