At The End Of The Day

 

 

At the end of the day

 

 I maintain a complete sense of serenity,

As I read sincerely to my freckled face children.

Absolutely no sign apparent of the previous hours,

I spent pointlessly preventing chaos at the office.

 

I continually offer just one more short story,

As I consciously strive to sustain the moment,

And when a string of seven books is completed,

I struggle to not look into their angelical eyes

As I close up the last book and kiss them goodnight,

Then gently switch out the light.

 

To the kitchen I then quickly take flight,

Flick on the jug and casually search for the coffee,

Then I silently sit, with a steaming hot cup in my hand,

And strategically try to take in the silence.

Strangely I hear the fire flickering

And the clamouring of the fridge,

Then I notice one of the kids is snoring –

 

I remember, some say silence is golden,

Then strangely imagine my hair sprinkled silver,

With the house eerily silent and no-longer full,

So I say silence is not worth holding,

Instead I sincerely suggest, treasure the kids.

Author: Richelle M.F.

Happy Reading

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