Blog Reading & Sharing

Mother

 

Too tired to sleep, in bed I lay,

I’d think how nice when, children grown,

My time again should be my own.

 

So now I sit and rock alone,

My hands at rest, the work all done;

No little tots upon the floor,

No fingerprints upon the door.

 

No socks to mend, bruises to kiss

Ah me! How could I know I’d miss

The very things I grudged to do

Dear God, if only there might be

Someone again who needed me!

 

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