I want to be a storybook mother
With model children who never cry.
I want to sew and read them stories
Then cook and clean until it’s done.
But I can only be myself
And let my babies be too
Beautiful sweet lovely brats
I couldn’t live without.
I start to cook but have to stop
To wipe a runny nose.
I take a bath and the baby falls in
While supper burns on the stove.
Out for a night I should be glad
But can anyone take my place?
Will they be safe till I get home?
They are in my heart wherever I go.
Jeanne Marie, 1979
Reblogged this on Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie.
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So true – strikes a chord with me…
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I’m not a mother but I think I understand the place this poem comes from. Thanks for sharing!
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Thank you…
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