Young Mom

Oh how I have wanted 

To be a young mom.

Since I was small,

It was all I would want.

To feed and take care,

To clean and to fetch,

To comb out the hair,

And wipe off the stench,

To mop muddy tracks,

And wipe counter tops,

To throw away stacks

Of old smelly socks,

To make mac and cheese

Night in and night out

(I’ll add broccoli

And watch as they pout).

I’ll do dirty dishes,

I’ll clean after friends,

And fulfill all the wishes

Of kids to the end.

This life I now live,

From the cleaning to the fights,

But I don’t have kids.

Instead, I’m a wife.