Mama trenches – a poem

There are days in the mama trenches you can not fix with wrenches.

Or books, or blankets or but perhaps with some hugs.

When your little guy is sick and he won’t eat a lick

And it’s snowing outside for days.

You go through the hours in a haze of towels

And hope that he feels better soon.

Unspoken to many, the mamas they go

Wherever is needed to make little ones grow.

Some mamas stomp loudly “why is this so”

Others chant calmly “I am the lucky one you know.”

However you got there, a mama you are

And to small little beings you seem like a star.

So enjoy the sweet ones, when they laugh and they poop

They are treasures from above the stork left on our stoop.

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