Saturday, April 5, 2008

Number Twelve

Between lunch and laundry,
I've a thousand words to say,
a poem rattling in my head, I've told to sit and stay.
Between lunch and laundry,
and folding each tiny sock,
my Muse drops by to remind me,
to get it while it's hot.
Between lunch and laundry,
there's one thousand things to do,
the doorbell rings, the cat meows,
there's dishes and there's you.
You always to remind me,
that life gets in the way,
but you can't put it down,
you can only ask it to wait,
and hope the words can stay.
Sometime between lunch and laundry,
I'll find the right word to say.

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