There's no place like home.

There's no place like home.
Home is where my husband and I reside; wherever that may be.

Friday, March 23, 2012

There are days when the sun is shining.
Lunch must be eaten out of doors.
Peanut butter has to be mixed with jelly
and the cheese on the nachos
needs to be peeled off before it is eaten.
When the sun shines and the birds sing
milk has to have ice cubes in it
and sand should be between the toes.
Indoors is the wrong place to be.
Babies have to put grass in their mouths
while two-year-olds dump sand
in their hair
laughing as it flows down their chins.
Mamma turns away because
the sun is shining and it must be done.
In the spring the breezes blow and baby
arms are chubby and cold, but
that's okay when the sun shines.
Spit up sinks into the soil
and no one cares. 
Chins don't get wiped, the sun is shining
and dirty faces are right.
Later it will be bath time.
Then fingernails will be scrubbed.
Toes will be found
deep in the sand.
Peanut butter will be parted from the jelly
and the nachos will grow stale.
By then the sun will go down.
Night will descend and everything will
be right because
the sun was shining.

No comments: