The Housewife
She's up in the
morning
Before she's awake,
Putting on coffee
And
pouring cornflakes,
Finding lost shoes,
Combing
sleep rumpled heads,
Diapering babies,
And
making the beds.
She kisses her husband
On
his way out the door,
She washes up the
dishes
And then vaccumes the floor.
A quick cup of
coffee,
While folding the clothes,
She teaches her
toddler
Not to pick in his nose.
The children are
fighting
The phones' ringing too,
There's only so much
that
One woman can do.
Supper is
burning,
Husband walks through the door,
Just as the kids
Knock the lamp to the floor.
He gathers his
wife
For a well deserved hug,
Then helps her to
round up
Their three little bugs.
Little teeth
brushed,
Stories are read,
Three sleepy children
Are sent
to their beds.
She finally gets
a
moment to rest,
Another day over,
The house is a
mess.
Sometimes she wonders,
How she manages it
all,
Without chaining her monsters
To the nearest stout
wall.
She looks in on her children,
On her way up
to her bed.
See's three little angels,
Three
sleep rumpled heads.
She stands there just
watching
Those little boys rest,
It is then that she
knows
Her life is the best.
(c) Sondra Falck All Rights Reserved
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