The idea to write this poem came to my mind while I was reading Dr. Seuss to Cameron today. It pretty much sums up our nights lately.
Musical Beds
One by one they make their way
Into our bed where we both lay.
This one's dreams keep him awake.
The other's legs are starting to ache.
That one's cry is for reasons unknown.
A comforting touch quiets the groans.
Up and over.
Scoot and squish.
I'm soon realizing... I just can't fit!
So I head upstairs to an empty bed.
The rhythmic snores have all gone dead.
Then shortly I hear the tip-toeing feet.
The game isn't done, yet I still haven't a seat.
2 comments:
This poem is perfect. A very true accounting of what happens all too often in the middle of the night.
That's awesome. You need to publish it in some mothering magazine--everyone would understand!
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