Mommy Mornings
You beat the sun, everyday
With sticky fingers in my face
Frosted flakes are on the floor
Cats are through the open door
The fridge is letting out its cold
There's something yellow on your nose
The faucet in the bathoom's running
You drew a robot on you tummy
The TV's blaring Sesame Street
And you've woken me for something to eat
I grab your arms
Tickle your belly
You laugh
You squirm
You tell me I'm smelly
You settled down
I hold you close
Mornings like this I love the most
This poem is about:
My family