Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Lament

The rock 'n' roll raucousness now is stilled;
with Vivaldi the halls of the house are filled.
Where gerbils and hamsters once reigned supreme,
there's time to think, and plan, and dream:
The kids are gone.

Two-a.m. feedings have long since fled,
and two-a.m. entrances nothing to dread.
From close of day to dawn's rose-red,
We sleep the sleep of the grateful dead:
The kids are gone.

The bathroom is free, our showers are short,
we no longer hasten from sport to sport,
the mountains of laundry are molehills at last,
and supper in shifts is a thing of the past:
The kids are gone.

There's time for our hobbies, we read at our leisure,
we walk and we talk to each other for pleasure.
But once in awhile, a brief, sorrowful sigh,
or a tear quickly wiped from a treasonous eye,
reveals our awareness: Our life's task is done.
The kids are gone.

© 2005 by Meg Lark

Every once in so often, it just hits you. Yesterday was one of those days, for no evident reason.

Nothing too much is new. Scrambling like mad to get ready for my third year of Russian. It would help if Life didn't keep getting in the way, but it does, and probably a good thing, given the sentiments expressed above.

3 comments:

Philippa said...

You wrote that all by yourself!?!??! You are an amazing woman Meg. I continue to be awed by your talents, abilities, and wisdom.

Glory to God!!!

Meg said...

I've been writing poetry since high school, actually....

Thank you for the compliment, but don't forget, with abilities comes responsibility, and I fear I have a great deal to answer before the Lord as to not having developed *anything* to its full potential.

Or, as the nuns in school used to say, "Always room for improvement." =:-)

Mimi said...

Beautiful, Meg! This is something I need to share with my mom.