I BE THE KING

I get cranky when I get cold.
They inform me I am old.
Yet, no one for certain can say,
what year, month, day,
where, or to whom I was born.
My story begins one morn.
On a snowy day in December.
All anyone could remember,
someone opened the front door.
and placed a hat box on the floor.
I was trapped inside, shivering,
wrapped in paper glimmering
with this greeting attached:
“From heaven dispatched”.
Long before I learned to crawl,
I was carried in a cozy wool shawl
and fed milk from a spoon by hand.
Thus, life with a single mom began.
The local drag queen now had a son.
Mama was a strong loving person.
Determined, I was to stay.
        He/she would never give me away.
With help from many a Dr. Spock lesson,
I was raised as her/his only son.
He/she had a song she/he liked to sing:
"I be a queen and you be my king.”
That little tune and Mama's love
kept me strong and far above
all the hate, catcalls, ill will, and sting.
Mama, you be my queen and I be your king.
Forever!