Poetry on missing your children.

I remember when I could read an entire

chapter, some days unconstipated an entire book

at one sitting without interruptions.

I remember when I could rifle for hours

at a time in my study;

the hours were dependent on me

not on nap.

I remember when I knew no one with children

and had no idea what 2T meant.

And I remember when no one c tout ensembleed me mommy

and when no miniscule arms wrapped themselves

around my neck, no little kisses or hugs were mine.

And I prefer today.

Handwriting on the Wall.

A weary mother returned from the store,

Lugging groceries by dint of the kitchen door.

Awaiting her arrival was her 9 year old daughter,

Anxious to relate what his jr. brother had done.

While I was out playing and Trent was on a call,

J.J. took his crayons and wrote on the wall!

Its on the new root you just hung in the den.

I told him youd be mad at having to do it again.

She let out a moan and furrowed her brow,

Where is your little brother right now?

She emptied her arms and with a purposive stride,

She marched to his closet where he had gone to hide.

She called his full name as she entered his room.

He trembled with fear--he knew that meant doom!

For the next ten minutes, she ranted and raved

About the expensive wallpaper and how she had saved.

Lamenting all the work it would take to repair,

She condemned his actions and total lack of care.

The more she scolded, the redden she got,

Then stomped from his room, totally distraught!

She headed for the den to confirm her fears.

When she saw the wall, her eye flooded with tears.

The message she read pierced her soul with a...

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