Let's let the children scream a bit and then
Allow ourselves a minute for some peace
Before they all wake up and start again
To fill our ears with noises that won't cease.
We stand upon the mill and start to tread
We flow like we are some sort of machine
We know that moments filled with riot and dread
Are also filled with love that can't be seen.
Then suddenly the tiny house is still
And I can spend an hour or two with you
We dream of dreams we one day will fulfil,
And ponder where the freedom's gone we knew.
So, though the days are filled with busyness,
The evenings make it all worth while I guess.
No comments:
Post a Comment