POEM.

A poem I wrote to the older woman who sat with me when my youngest was in hospital earlier this year.

It’s a special kind of love mum’s have
The older woman watching on said.
And I thought, I hope to be her one day,
When grey hairs crown my head.

POEM.

In my phone there is a list
Of all the little projects I’d like to do.
Photo books, and re-potting plants,
Making puzzles, and re-organising cupboards too.

POEM.

Keep running little one,
Don’t you worry, I’m right here.
A step behind, watching on,
To support you with a cheer.

POEM.

Some days the mess of our house,
Really gets under my skin.
The constant picking up and putting away,
It never looks like I’ve done a thing.

POEM.

Whew you’ve got your hands full,
The passing stranger said with a grin.
As I wrestled the baby in the pram,
The toddler eyeing him with jutted chin.