Torn

I am like a young child, torn
Twixt impulse and obeying
Desire throbs upon the morn
With duty ever preying

The stalwart lupine tugs my gaze
Scattering my wishes
I am torn by summer’s ways
And stacks of dirty dishes

Laundry baskets weight my arms
I sense the charted hours
But life is short, the sun is warm
And fields are bright with flowers

Am I to tread the rigid line
Controlled by austere duty
While morning zephyrs tease the vine
Of summer’s rampant beauty?

Too soon the eye of June grows dull
And faded is its flower
Laundry hampers will be full
Long after summer’s hour

I am like a young child, torn
Two voices taunt my reason
Duty wakes with every morn
But summer for a season

Janet~