long days of work
on aching legs
run right off her feet
home at last
to yet another round
of wash-and-clean
never a spare smile
to lighten
a femininely handsome face
and no moment
for a breath of peace
always something
one more something
still to do
day after day
long into the evening
no change
to the way it is
except a teardrop
that forms in her eye
when the little boy
with a small voice asks
mama
when I grow up
if I can earn
a hundred dollars
every week
do you think my wife
can stay at home
and not have to work
each day
~
-
Author:
Frank Prem (
Offline) - Published: March 17th, 2018 00:26
- Comment from author about the poem: Franks Psychiatry Pt 1 - Early Years.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
Offline)
Comments3
That brings home a great message.
The lessons learned in childhood.
Frank,
This is a déjà vu piece of writing that brought a tear to my eyes! I saw my mom in your write! Thank you for the share!
~Laura~
Most welcome, Laura.
Cheers.
This was heartbreaking...... it just hits a chord I have about how people's lives are being stolen away from them........
Thanks Lorna.
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