I call to mind
the years when did
my lone comrads
go diapered and bibbed.
When I was mother
in my home,
and had to plan
to get things done.
When chores were fit
between the games,
during naps,
before the rains.
My babies came
over twenty years,
while I stayed home,
was always near.
I knew young children
needed a mom
who'd play with trucks,
pull their boots on.
One with the time
to wipe a tear,
or bake a treat,
or just be there.
I've no career,
or claim to fame,
except good kids
raised safe and sane.
first published in AllPoetry.com
©2014 Bonnie Manion