My mom needlepointed this when I was a baby and hung it in my room and I have always thought about this poem very fondly.....
The cleaning and scrubbing
will wait till tomorrow,
for Children grow up,
as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs.
Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby
and babies don't keep......
That is such a sweet poem and so true. By the way, I am SO having one of those days today.
ReplyDeleteWow, that poem brought tears to my eyes.
ReplyDelete