Monday, November 8, 2010

The Parent

Put your nose to the old grindstone
So it goes till the work’s all done
Mouths to feed and bills to pay
Seems our needs don’t melt away
We get so tired, oh it never ends
Life can be hard with the toil it sends
But suddenly we realize
Responsibility is paradise

When we do it for brown eyes, green eyes or blue
Rewarded with soft hugs and I love you
Come on let’s face it, it’s not so bad
And we’d never replace it; being mother or dad

There is a measure of sorrow we earn
Maybe tomorrow we’ll see a return
As another wrinkle implants itself where
Youth once twinkled, unblemished and fair
Sweeping again, nobody cares
Extra hours put in at the job, in your prayers
Yet suddenly its cost becomes worthwhile
As you find yourself lost in a youngsters smile

And we’d do it again; in half a heartbeat
For the mischievous grin or a kiss so sweet
Back to the grindstone; aren’t you glad?
There’s work to be done ‘cause you’re mother or dad

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!