Raising Boys
I scrub the wall of fingerprints, Pick up the mounds of clothes.
I sweep the dirt that shoes track in-Wish I could use a hose!
Meals are served from dawn to dark, Dirty dishes crowd the sink.
Just when they're washed and put away-Everyone wants a drink!
The washer pulls the dirty grime From pants worn thin and patched.
They look so very neat and clean-Yuck, look what the pockets hatched!
Broken bones and bloody knees, I should have been a nurse.
I take it all in shaky stride-Just grateful it's not worse!
Screams and shouts and arguments Test the keeping of my cool.
They left the neighbor's faucet on-See their new front yard pool!
A soothing bath is ecstasy, A reward at the end of my rope.
Raising boys isn't really bad-But first I must wash the soap!
A rose can say I Love You, Orchids can enthrall;
But a weed bouquet in a chubby fist, Oh my, that says it all!
(Roberta I. Teague)
No comments:
Post a Comment