Monday, August 24, 2009

Mom Poetry

oh little goldfish
escaping your pouches then
stuck in my couches



my van, my van
my second home
once you had some
shiny chrome

my sad, sad van
you are always covered
in dirt and grime
and with food smothered

i wish, i wish
for clean and shiny
but until then
you're filled with whiny

messy, dirty kids
behind them a trail
of trash and wrappers
without fail

someday, my van
you will be tidy and neat
someday, my van
your job complete


HE'S TOUCHING ME!
SHE'S HITTING ME!
WHY MUST I ALWAYS REFEREE?

1 comment:

  1. Love love love this. My new van now looks like a baby threw up fishies and toys:)

    ReplyDelete

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