Love the color Brown

Cute brown eyes, oh my, am I seeing too much brown.

Knowing it’s not blurred vision when the smell makes me frown.

Laughing as he watches brown streaks follow his little hands.

Giggling he waves, sending out tendrils of long brown strands.

Looking and grabbing for his hands to slow down the disaster.

Missing the first time because his hands were much faster.

A dad’s curse is slow reaction. You join your son after missing your grab.

Two now are endowed with brown. With a one year old, life is not drab.

Valiantly hoping to have no brown trails, toward the bathroom we scurry.

He looks up with a smiling questioning face, asking, what’s the hurry?

In the mirror I see us both covered in brown blobs.

My upset turns to laughter as I see these two slobs.

Emotions lubricate. I feel my eyes easily slip open and close.

The first tears I feel running down the sides of my nose.

Wiggle, wiggle, I move my nose to stop the darn tickle.

I could feel a drop ready to fall of my nose with a trickle.

Boy, I wanted to wipe it off so very, very bad.

Looking at brown hands made me so very, very sad.

Joy came into my heart, looking at myself and my little brown speckled clown.

I just hugged my son and I scratched my nose. I now truly love the color brown.

Roland James March 2001