Think of all the delicious verses gone unwritten
Because the dishes needed washed, the laundry needed hanging,
A diaper needed changed,
Or a mouth needed fed.
All the scrumptious pentameter that never made it out of  the heart.
A mother’s work is a physical thing,
There is no room to write down in pretty words.
For all of her love is poured into her babes.
Ah, but just think, what if all that love had been written into verse.

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