Five years
thriving within your walls
building our humble nest
of 982 twigs
just enough to call home
With buckets of paint
countless IKEA trips
and sweat
this space
becomes ours
Posted on
Five years
thriving within your walls
building our humble nest
of 982 twigs
just enough to call home
With buckets of paint
countless IKEA trips
and sweat
this space
becomes ours
Posted on
Twas the morn after Christmas and with nowhere to go,
Every creature was sleeping in our humble condo.
The girlies were sprawled out, new toys in their beds,
While visions of next Christmas danced in their heads.
And Mama in her jammies, and Papa in his G’s,
Slept on into Saturday, for as long as they pleased.
When out of the alarm clock there arose such a clatter,
Mama went to take her temp, and empty her bladder.
Her temperature had risen, could this be a trick?
She ran to the bathroom to pee on a stick.
When what to her wondering eyes should appear?
But a thin, pale, blue line, that was faint…but clear.
And so to the closet, she flew like a bat
Grabbed a large flashlight, and by Papa she sat.
“I think I am pregnant!” she said with a smile.
And they gazed at the stick, and then hugged for a while.
And the twins’ Christmas wish, if you can remember,
Will be happily fulfilled this coming September.
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Changed
A form is changed no longer thin
with curtseyed hips now stools for kin,
and silver threads on weary skin
prove medals from babes once within.