With knots low down
We wait.
Like a child the hours seem far off and distant, until his return.
Really only a mere 7
House warm, soup’s on
Sinks clean, floors shiny, sheets fresh
Love, it trickles in
Imagining the joy I’ll watch unfurl
through the creases of my off-springs’ smiles
At finally having seen, and hurled their bodies into the arms of
him.
For now it’s the mad dash to tear that list down,
work-day drudgery it’s not
Creativity the major key
Lucky
Like a child though
All I want to be doing is
Dancing with glee
I suppose
Way over yonder, that he is thinking of me
Us.
This post was inspired by she.
Amy Turn Sharp's - a Poem a Day
