And here I am
quiet as a mouse
Resting in my chair
Sitting in my house
Waiting for no one
Not Waiting for a call
Waiting for nothing
Not Waiting here at all.
But here I sit
In the quiet of the day
Wondering and hoping
Is something on the way?
Could it be a package?
Could it be the mail?
Could it be unexpected?
That I can't tell.
The front door flies open
My eyes grow very wide
For it's a loved one
Who has come inside.
Here I drifted in thought
Here time sped on by
Here it was getting late
And I had forgot the why.
"Hello Mother dear
Hello I'm home
I'm back from school
You're no longer alone.
My friends are waiting
For me to call
To discuss today
And going to the mall."
Seconds go by
And I am back to alone,
Except for my baby now
Talking on the phone.
(For those who don't know CRS - CAN'T REMEMBER SH*T. Now my break is over back to my chores. My 13 year old daughter will get off the bus soon...and be coming through the door...)
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Comments: 17
One year I was making strawberry jam and hid five quarts somewhere so the guys wouldn't find it and eat it all before winter. I still can't remember where I put it to this day. The house burned down in 1996 and we never even found pieces of glass lying in a pile anywhere. We call it,"Where's my-There it is" in our family. It can be staring me in the face and I dig like a gopher until I finally find it. That's since the kids grew up and left home. Up until then I'd always call one of them to help me, and just before they got to me, I'd find it. Therefore the saying.
I did enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet every now and then before the door blew open and seven of the nine kids came in looking for homemade cookies or something. They'd all tell me about their day and then we went to do chores. Lots of things were put down somewhere while working that we never found either. "Mr. Nobody" came and took them.
That was a short put good poem for us mothers. Thanks!
Barbara S.