Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

My little boy is always climbing trees.
He often falls and skins his knees.

His face is dirty, but you can still see his smile.
Rubbing his dirty hands in his eyes, he’ll beguile.

I send him off to the bathroom to wash,
And he comes back still dirty, by gosh.

So off I go to give him a hand
Washing with soap, leaning over the wash stand.

Our prayers are all done, and as I turn out the light
I hope his dreams keep him happy all throughout the night.

As I watch my little boy, an angel at peace,
My worries are resting for 8 hours at least.

Taking to the washer all of his dirty clothes,
I first empty pockets of stuff that he stows.

Marbles, string and stone, he has kept.
What a marvelous day he had, I say as he slept

© Copyright 1998 by Jean E. Gorney