Life ticks over in mundane ways
The ever repeating arguments
That take up half the day
The piles of things, wrappers, washing
laying in the way of peace;
Of pause without thought
Is a mother
Always twice the age
Of every other?
I see two years here, four there, feel ancient.
Actually ancient sounds good
Feels clean, honest, honed and wisdom worthy;
I am crumpled laundry faded with dust
February 10, 2014 at 2:51 pm
Absolutely beautiful. Perfect capture. ❤
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