If My Book were a Child

If my book were a child,

I would think it most darling

for nudging me with ideas while only

half-conceived.

“I hope you look like me,”

I would tell it with fondness.

For this unborn book would carry my name.

And if my book were a child,

I would think it most naughty

for exerting a will of its own while only a  

young draft.

“Who taught you such sass?”

I would demand with a threat.

For it was putting its author and her wits to shame.

And if my book were a child,

I would think it most stubborn

for taking on a life and a look of its own

But if my book were a child,

I would be most proud

for what it became and what it helped me become.

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What projects of yours have become like children to you?

How have they helped you grow?

Got kids? Grandkids? Nieces and nephews?

Or are you just plain curious to find out where all the missing socks go? Find out one ambitious sock’s journey by ordering your copy of The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock!

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