My Son Turned A Thrilling Twenty Year Old Poem by Gayathri Seetharam

My son turned a thrilling twenty year old
-Gayathri B. Seetharam
Beige lays siege upon the heart
Red is bred to wed
And with this combination
I celebrated my son's twentieth birthday
Wearing the displayed tatting design
On a decollete blouse
For not only do my breasts lie on either side of my heart
But blest was my baby turned child for I
Breast fed him until he was three years old;

Twenty says Pranav has
Plenty to see, do and accomplish
For making his way in the world
Gives him the opportunity to lead the way;

It is all coming back
The little details of my pregnancy and childbirth
For coincidentally, on Halloween evening
A young handsome black man who seemed to be in his early thirties
Asked me for my phone number in LCBO
And when I politely refused to give it
He asked me if I was pregnant;

Obviously, I said No and realised
That I was slacking off on my sit-ups and ab work-outs
And while I was going down memory lane
I was woken up from my reverie
With the plaintive cry of the Blue Jay;

It was not the chirpy call of the sparrows
Or the tweeting of the red robin
Or the occasional raspy cooing of pigeons
And this sent a ray of sunlight into my thoughts;

My son is 20 years old
And there will be plenty of sunshine in our lives
The rainbow array of beautiful colours
Will bring in love, laughter and life;

Yet the truant thought cropped into my mind
Will I be a victorious Blue Jay
True to my calling, a feminist's quest
For fame, fortune and finery;

If suffrage came to women
After the "Age of Innocence" was submerged
By the feminist movement
So shall the single minded devotion to my family and work
That I exhibit, be accompanied by the rightful attainment
Of my quest for glory, gold and glitter;

If the glistening sunshine has gold shimmering through it
The shining moonshine has love written all over it
And the sun in autumn and winter shines with all its might
And in all its resplendent beauty, does not have the power of its spring and summer self;

I wish I transcend new heights of success
And publish a lot more and be paid a great deal of money
OR newspapers, museums and universities pay me for their publishing privileges
And I, thus become a paid engineer, writer, poet and artist.