Monday, January 16, 2012
I have read this poem a few times in various places over the years - but thought I'd copy it here so that I would remember it.
Some houses try to hide the fact that children shelter there.
Ours boast of it quite openly, the signs are everywhere.
For smears are on the windows, little smudges on the door,
I should apologize for toys strewn across the floor.
But, I sat down with the children, we played and laughed and read,
So, if the doorbell doesn't shine, their eyes will shine instead.
For when at times, I'm forced to choose the one job or the other,
I want to be a housewife, but first I'll be a mother.