Another day another school run,
another day for being judged by those school mums.
There they all stand talking in their circles
with running gear on in every shade of purple.
4x4 cars all parked in a row
waiting to be driven off back home so they can bake their sour dough.
Conversations ongoing about how they fill their days,
looking all the time for people listening so they think we are all amazed.
Looking at us others all in our pj's whilst we all walk past,
wondering what that look is on our faces,
it is the look of I can not be arsed.
Back they all come for the school run in the afternoon,
waiting for their little darlings running out to them soon.
Full make up and glad rags on, they do make me laugh,
yet they make comments about me wearing jogging bottoms,
yet I am not the one who is looking daft.
No cake bake planning for the next school fete for me at the big table in the café,
where they all sit around stirring their cauldron whilst they leave their kids in ballet.
I smile everyday and say a polite hello,
when my kids come out at 3 o'clock I shout go, go, go,
I do not want to be one of the mums in purple gym gear,
I would rather join a group of mums that would rather go for a beer.
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Author:
Denise (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 3rd, 2022 08:03
- Comment from author about the poem: I am sure everyone goes through this at some point.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
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