Some houses try to hide the fact
That children shelter there,
Ours boasts it quiet openly,
The signs are Everywhere.
For smears on the windows,
Little smudges on the doors,
I should apologize I guess,
For toys strewn on the floor.
But I sat down with the children,
And we played and laughed and read,
And if the doorbell doesn’t shine,
Their eyes will shine instead.
For when at times I am forced to choose,
The one job or the other,
I’d like to cook, and clean, and scrub,
But first I’ll be a MOTHER.
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Tags: god, poem
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