Playing with my babies
I come in the door weary and fatigued
another grain of sand drops with a thud
three smudged faces greet me
play with me, play with me, play with me
a deep groan swells within
play? whats that?
does it have a cushion?
play with me, play with me, play with me
their cries begin in unison
then break apart like chirping birds
down goes the briefcase
fling go the shoes
swish goes the flown off tie
off goes the phone
OK, lets play . .
screams of joy
sharp pains in my throbbing head
one hour turns to three
stealing a moment mid giggles I see
the next grain of sand is hovering
how lucky I am
why don't I play more?
Make every moment count . . as we never know which grain will be our last.
I come in the door weary and fatigued
another grain of sand drops with a thud
three smudged faces greet me
play with me, play with me, play with me
a deep groan swells within
play? whats that?
does it have a cushion?
play with me, play with me, play with me
their cries begin in unison
then break apart like chirping birds
down goes the briefcase
fling go the shoes
swish goes the flown off tie
off goes the phone
OK, lets play . .
screams of joy
sharp pains in my throbbing head
one hour turns to three
stealing a moment mid giggles I see
the next grain of sand is hovering
how lucky I am
why don't I play more?
Make every moment count . . as we never know which grain will be our last.
posted by Darrin at 12:43 AM
2 Comments:
A very sweet poem Darrin, you poor man! I don't know how you do it, and i teach 30 kids all day (unless i'm lying on a beach on holiday).
Nat
how true...having 3 monkeys of my own i empathise to the max!!
good on you for playing and making the most of every moment.
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