Poem for the working wife and or mother. Perfect for the fridge.

Me and what happened to make me into a Pitiful Early Sunday Morning Creature.

A Rant.

A poem about a mother’s feeling of loss when her youngest goes to school.

Busy.

This is for my grandson, who is sure that chores were invented just to torture him.

Embarrassing moments. Why everyone should hang a mirror close to their entrance door.

Have you ever sensed even amongst friends and in relationships you’re alone? Have you felt no one is really listening to your feelings? The truth is because life has distracted us and has placed many chores upon us to even give the time. Our nature has been destroyed through life’s demands.

Without these the whole world would grind to a halt.

This will probably ring bells with many mothers of grown up children, maybe dads as well.