She tumbles into my morning
All blue-eyed and sleepy-headed
Then brings me the comics to read with her
He, feigning innocence, asks me
If there’s any way cookies could work
Into a healthy break-fast
I’m living in the good, old days, I know…
They have succeeded in emptying my fridge
And the gas tank in the van
And, sometimes that well of patience
They forget more than they remember
Then feel so bad
Oh, yes, I’m living in the good, old days
People smile when they see my grocery cart
And ask if I’m feeding the town
I smile, and say it’s amazing
How much food kids and their friends can down…
…and I return to my oven, and the kitchen-sink
And my mountain of laundry,
Tripping over an ocean of shoes left inside the door
And I sweep the floor for the ump-teenth time
…yet I know,
I’m living in the good, old days
As little moments drift away
Like the dizzy leaf spiraling on the wind
Janet
It struck me as I surveyed my mental to-do list
and as the morning began unfolding
that I really am living in my 'good,old days'...
Another of your GREAT poems. I hope this one is included in your poem a day. It would fit wonderfully in a chapbook.
ReplyDeleteMike, I haven't the foggiest clue how to do the chap-book end of it. I may need some help if I decide to try it.
ReplyDelete