Poem: 64

Bad language spoken;
Babies crying
Overcooked biscuits
because mother insisted they be
left in for another two minutes.

Dolls being stolen
between Lexi & Mattie
Scarves for blankets being offered
to even the score;

Dishes left to clean later while I slipped into
a tub filled with hot water and crystals that
smelled of passion flowers but are labeled Green Tea;

Just another day; just another Sunday
to miss church for the tending to others;

No, please don’t bake a cake! or fix a dish
for I am not in the mood to celebrate.
It’s just another day, the same as the day before
for tending to others while I let myself slip away.

Today is not memorable, there is nothing remarkable,
easy, or serene about it to report to you;
Just the usual trysts and tasks that daily surround and
weave in and out of an ordinary day. My 64th birthday.
(copyright: 2009)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s