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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