Someday, my Dear...for Mothers

   

Someday, I hope you will see Home for what it was...

  

How clutter and half-empty fruit-bowls were post-cards of love

   

that laundry meant Living

   

Someday you'll understand why the vacuum hose was fixed with duct-tape...again...and again

   

...why though I reminded you that 'M' stood for Mother, not maid, you were blissfully forgetful of it

  

...how sometimes love is boiled potatoes

  

...how Homemade doesn't just happen

  

how the time we picked pussy-willows was much more than just that...

Someday, my dear

I hope you’ll forgive me

For all the things you didn’t have

…for all the things you did

Someday, my dear

I hope you’ll forgive my short-comings

For my heart will never be big enough

To hold all my love for you

Someday, my dear

I hope you’ll see

In a stunning half-breath

The true heart of me

…and how my life

Seemingly, mundane and small

Was not so barren

After all

© Janet Martin

I'm off to tidy and clean some of those 'unsightly' postcards...