A Love Poem For Mom

Nobody writes a poem for mom
No one admits he loves mother
They turn adults but not lovers enough
Nor man enough to admit their love

Bringing him up eighteen years now
She knows well who soils her panties
In the laundry with sticky spots
And loves it

She is aware of his gaze stealing up her skirt
She admires his adoration of her body
Proud to have a full grown loving son

She permits him a glimpse of wet breasts
Or of her pussy by dropping a towel or two
Aroused to see him aroused down there
And enjoys it

She cuddles with him on the sofa like a beloved
Hugs him and places her head on his chest
She falls asleep in his lap on his hard on
And gets tuned on

She allows him to caress her tender breasts
And makes him think he possesses her
For some stolen moments once or twice
And hopes for more action

She gives out every sign of willingness
To be taken and loved and loved and loved
But he never admits he loves her bravely
He remains a coward admirer a silent lover

She gets ready to open her thighs
Sensing the movements of his hot body
She prepares to be crushed under him now
As he lifts his hot body to his feet
And waits for the penetration

But he gets up and leaves her sad and rejected
And goes in bath jerks off to her name
Moaning and sighing audibly what injustice

She sighs and sheds a tear silently
Looks at the bathroom door sadly
And retires to her bedroom crying within

They want their mothers but deserve her not
Wandering lifelong in vain for what they have already

Nobody admits he loves mother
No one writes a poem for Mom
No one is brave enough to take the invitation