A true confession by all accounts,
Should make a soul feel better.
But this account is in a arrears
And therefore needs a letter.
We ordered flowers for your day
Accompanied with a card.
We then relaxed with gratitude;
It’s really not that hard.
For we give thanks and stand in awe
For all your life has done.
In birthing me and making me
Your one and only son.
The problem is, your mothering
Has made me so secure.
That now I failed to double check
And really to make sure
That your Mother’s Day bouquet
Was really on its way.
But we just found as I looked down
A maddening delay!
FTD had sent to me
A late but detailed notice
Your ordered flowers
Got messed up … Could it be the POTUS?
We don’t know and now feel sad.
We feel so bad and flustered;
That for our favorite grand mama
We couldn’t cut the mustard.
At least from me, you will see,
A new and hearty plan
To make amends and then grow up
And finally be a man.
You’ve done well, you’ve done your job
You’re not the one to blame
You loved me so and cared so much
And filled me with life’s flame.
I just must do a better job in learning to be me
And checking back and being sure
Of flowers with FTD!